Of Men and War
by DirtyFeet
Summary: In the battles, we lost ourselves. In the quiet moments, we reaffirmed our existences in each other. When the smoke cleared, I was a ghost, and when he was gone, I didn't know who I was anymore. Sequel to "Of Wolves and Men." RL x OC.
1. Of the Order of the Phoenix

**A/N**: Sequel to _Of Wolves and Men_. Things will be very different from its predecessor. I hope y'all are ready for a ride.

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Of the Order of the Phoenix**

Rowan Delacroix was barely breathing. It was dark, but she could see James Potter's silhouette outlined across from her. They were positioned in a high tree, peering down at the lit front porch of the house below them, waiting.

Hours seemed to pass silently, and Rowan thought that perhaps time in the darkness had stopped. Finally, a series of inky tendrils slithered out from the darkness into the yellow light of the porch, and Rowan gripped her wand tightly, her throat tight. Three Death Eaters appeared before the door, their silver masks glinting subtly. She looked to James quickly, and he nodded, both aiming their wands with bated breath.

"_Stupefy!_" they both cast in unison, hitting two out of the three Death Eaters in the chest with beams of red light, knocking them unconscious. The third shouted out in surprise and looked around wildly for the source of the hexes, spotting James and Rowan in the tree above. He snarled in anger.

"_Avada-_" he started but was cut short by another red light, hitting him square in the back with a grunt. As he fell to the ground, Rowan and James leapt from the tree quickly, sprinting towards the three fallen Death Eaters with their wands still drawn.

Rowan reached them first, quickly grabbing the wrists of the first man as she wordlessly conjured up a series of heavy ropes, which wound quickly around the dark wizard's waist and wrists. She tied the knot tightly as James stood at the ready in front of her, eyes scanning quickly over their surroundings in case of any Death Eaters hiding in the darkness. As she was moving to tie the next one, two older red-haired men appeared from the bushes, Disillusionment Charms fading. One was tall and thin with a long face and nose, and the other was shorter with a square face and bright brown eyes. The taller man also kept his wand out and armed.

"Good work, you two," the shorter man said, nodding to the younger pair. He squatted down to remove the mask of the first one as Rowan tied up the last. "Well, I'll be damned," he breathed, chuckling darkly without humor. "Arthur, it's good ol' Victor Crabbe."

The taller man nodded but kept his eyes facing toward the darkness. "I imagine one of the other two will be Grayson Goyle, then," he said quietly.

The shorter man removed the mask from the second. "Quite right," he confirmed. "About time we caught these two. I can't imagine Lucius Malfoy would lower himself to do a sloppy hit like this, but…" He moved to the third.

But just as he was about to remove the remaining mask, Rowan saw a glint in the darkness and tackled him to the ground.

"_Get down!" _she shouted, as a beam of green light shot from the darkness and hit the door above them, just where his head had been.

In a surge of adrenaline, she grabbed the older man and threw him into the bushes with her, scrambling up to join the battle again. Another two Death Eaters had emerged from the darkness and were dueling viciously with Arthur Weasley and James. One finally landed a lucky shot, hitting Arthur in the chest with a flash of red light. He fell to the ground unconscious.

"_Arthur!"_ the other older man shouted, running to his fallen comrade's side.

"No, _Gideon!"_ Rowan called out after him, but in her distraction, the Death Eater broke through the front door of the house in a billow of black robes and smoke, and she took off after him, throwing hexes at him but narrowly missing every time.

"_Shit, shit, shit!"_ she cursed at herself, breathing harshly. She had to stop him. _Why couldn't she land a single hit?_

He tore up the stairs toward the master bedroom, wand drawn and panting, and Rowan was throwing hexes erratically in panic. But just as he burst through the door, he found himself staring down the end of a wand.

"_Stupefy!"_ And in a flash of red light, he was down for the count.

Rowan reached the bedroom just in time to see the Death Eater collapse to the ground and looked up, panting, to see Remus Lupin. He was glaring down at the Death Eater, wand still drawn. Mina Surrey was positioned behind him, wand armed. She pushed past him quickly, conjuring ropes the same way Rowan had and tied him tightly.

Rowan lowered her wand and felt as if she might throw up from the sudden relief. She rushed forward into Remus' arms. He wrapped his arms around her tightly for a moment before pulling back to look at her, holding her by the shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he whispered frantically. "Is everyone safe?"

She nodded. "Yeah, we're all okay. Arthur got hit by a Stunner, but he's all right I think. That's how this one got in," she said quickly, gesturing down to the Death Eater at her feet.

Remus let out a shaky breath before turning back to their friend. "I got this, Mina," he said, pointing his wand at the dark form and levitating his heavy body up. Rowan moved forward to hug Mina quickly before they ran down the stairs together, Remus following with the floating Death Eater.

When they got outside, they saw that Arthur had been revived, still sitting on the ground in a slight daze, and the other three unconscious Death Eaters were still tied up together. The one James had been dueling, however, was missing.

"Last one got away," James said angrily. "Took off when he heard his partner get taken down. Coward," he spat. He kicked one of the Death Eaters in frustration, and the dark-robed figure grunted unconsciously with pain.

"You okay, Arthur?" Rowan asked the taller man.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that. Slipped up there, I did," he said apologetically and got to his feet slowly. "Got damn lucky though," he added darkly. He seemed quite shaken at his close brush with death.

Gideon Prewett clapped him on the back. "Well, another day, another fight. Eh, Weasley?" he said jovially, though the relief on his face was apparent. "Let's head over to the Ministry to turn these bastards in, and then we'll go back to Headquarters to make our report to Dumbledore. I think Molly said she'd be waiting with dinner for us. I imagine the MacDougals will also be waiting."

The four men each grabbed a Death Eater, hauling them up by the ropes around their waists. Rowan moved to Remus' side again, snaking her arm in his and smiling up at him thinly, the stress of the mission still tight in her spine. He looked down at her with a fierce heat, and they all Disapparated on the spot.

* * *

"So it turns out the Death Eaters we got tonight were Victor Crabbe, Grayson Goyle, Tenebrus Macmillan, and Thorfinn Rowle," said Gideon as he sat down at the table at the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. "No Malfoy again," he added disappointedly.

"Well, he's not one to get his hands dirty," said Remus bitterly. "Plays it safe, that one."

The four younger members had been eating Molly Weasley's excellent stew and talking quietly as they waited for the older man to return from reporting their mission's results to Dumbledore. Arthur Weasley was icing a bump on the back of his head while eating a bar of chocolate. His wife was darting around him worriedly, placing a hot mug of tea in front of him. Every so often she'd come over and check the welt on his head and seemed unable to keep her hands from touching his face. Rowan was reminded of Remus' mother and sympathized with the older woman – it must have been heart wrenching for her to stay behind while her husband went out to fight.

"And the Macdougals?" Mina asked.

"Kingsley, Sirius, Peter, and Lily should be tucking them into bed as we speak," Gideon said warmly. "It's lucky that they came to us in time," he added more seriously.

The people around the table nodded gravely but were interrupted when the door to the kitchen swung open, and a flash of red hair swept in. Lily Evans burst in and threw herself into James' arms, which he wrapped around her waist tightly. The two held each other for a moment before Lily pulled away.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, eyes scanning over his face wildly.

He smiled reassuringly. "Yes, darling, I'm okay. Everyone's okay," he murmured quietly.

She settled in to the seat next to him, arm still wrapped around James' waist, as Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew appeared in the doorway, smiling exasperatedly.

"I told you he'd be fine, Lil. James' head is too thick to do any damage to it," Sirius joked. She glared at him but said nothing, turning back to her boyfriend and gripping his arm tightly.

"You guys got the Macdougals back in their home?" Remus asked, looking at the two men.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, they send their thanks," he said.

He and Sirius slipped into the seats next to Mina. Sirius' eyes scanned over her quickly. She smiled quietly at him and rubbed his hand reassuringly, and he seemed to take it as a sign that she was all right, draping an arm around her shoulders and smiling broadly in relief.

"Where's Kingsley?" Arthur asked.

"Went to go give our report to Dumbledore. He sends his regards," Sirius replied. He sighed. "Damn, I hope I can be half as cool as that guy someday. The man is like the definition of strong and silent."

Rowan snorted. "Sirius, I don't think you've ever been 'silent' in your entire life," she said. Their friends laughed at his dramatic wounded look.

"So when is Dumbledore giving us our next assignment?" Remus asked Gideon.

He shrugged. "Not sure," he said, "Though I imagine it won't be until next week's meeting at least. Don't worry about it too much."

The younger members finished their dinners and thanked Molly for the stew, a few hugging her affectionately. Turning to say goodbye to the Weasley-Prewett family, they each moved for the door. Remus and Rowan were the last to exit.

He grabbed her hand, tangling his fingers in hers. "Stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly.

She smiled gently and squeezed his hand reassuringly, reading the anxious look in his face. "Yeah," she replied. He smiled in relief and led them out the door after their friends. As they hit pavement, Rowan felt herself being sucked into the void, fingers still laced with Remus'.


	2. Of Reasons to Be Grateful

**A/N**:

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Of Reasons to Be Grateful**

It had been about six months since the Marauders had joined the Order of the Phoenix, and they'd only had a handful of missions assigned to them so far. Their involvement had mostly involved back up until very recently, when they'd finally been given a few protection missions. Luckily, their assignments had been going smoothly, but Rowan was still anxiously dreading the night someone finally got hurt.

The respective couples in their group of friends had been split up and placed into different teams with more senior members of the Order as to not allow emotional distractions, which Rowan thought was a very sensible policy. She was frequently paired with Arthur Weasley, who was naturally more cautious than she, though she'd also found herself with Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody from time to time, which both frightened and delighted her. He reminded her of a more well-humored version of her Potions Master Damocles Belby, and she frequently amused herself with teasing him. She supposed she was lucky that the older Auror had taken a liking to her brand of humor, as Sirius often found himself at the receiving end of the older man's anger.

Remus, however, had not been pleased with their separation on missions, still having a fierce need to protect her. He had initially received the information with quietly contained anger, but he accepted it as well as he could when he saw that she'd be partnered with experienced duelists – albeit reluctantly – and was frequently paired with Gideon Prewett or Dedalus Diggle, who were both impulsive men and were mellowed out by Remus' nearly constant reason. After each mission, Remus would either stay at her apartment, or she'd stay at his, and he'd make love to her fiercely, hands gripping to her tightly as if scared that if he let go of her, she'd disappear. After, she'd hold him gently and kiss him slowly, calming his nerves and reassuring him that she was indeed still there with him.

Their relationship had had its ups and downs since she'd joined the Order – a little later than the others so that she'd have time to adjust to her rigorous apprenticeship – but they were still more in love with each other than ever. It was as if the war made their days together more precious, and they cherished each moment they had alone. Rowan couldn't imagine her life without him and feared losing him more than anything, often waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and frantically reaching over to feel him beside her.

One good thing, however, had emerged from the rubble of war – James and Lily had gotten engaged. They were to be married in the summer, and their friends were all ecstatic for them, happy for a glimmer of light in the darkness. Rowan knew logically that it was all quite sudden – they hadn't even been together officially for a year – but there was something about them that was so honest and fiery that it all seemed very normal. If there was such a thing as soul mates, she was determined that it applied to James and Lily.

Sirius and Mina's relationship had also had its ups and downs, but the two seemed to be doing relatively well. After leaving Hogwarts, they had started quietly seeing each other, and Rowan still hadn't been able to pull out of her friends what had occurred between them at the end of their last school year. Mina had gotten quieter since beginning at the Order, and Rowan could see that it was taking its toll on her, but the brunette kept going with a quiet fire that she had to admire. Sirius had moved out of the Potters' home and had his own flat in London, though he frequently stayed at Mina's place – Rowan suspected it had to do with similar reasons that Remus insisted on staying with her. She often felt guilty that she didn't have more time to spend with her friends but was glad to see that they were both doing well in both their relationship and work at the Ministry.

Peter and Maria Bastion had recently broken up about a month before. He didn't talk about it much, but Rowan could see that it had hit Peter pretty hard. James told her that the girl was scared of his involvement with the Order, and Rowan hoped that it didn't make him second-guess himself. He wasn't a confident man, and the last thing the Order needed was for someone to back out – they didn't exactly have many members.

* * *

"Girl, do you have those sleeping draughts I asked you for?" grumbled a deep voice.

Rowan was lying on her desk with her head on her arms. After her protection mission with the Macdougal family, Remus had kept her up late with his usual post-mission attentions – though who was she to complain – and she was feeling particularly tired. She sat up and saw Damocles Belby clunking down the stairs loudly. "Good morning, Master Belby," she yawned.

He grunted. "Wake your ass up. It's time to get started. The sleeping draughts?" he asked grumpily.

She yawned again. "Sorry, had a late night," she said apologetically. "I have the draughts right here… was about to set them out in the shop."

"Do it quickly and come back down. I want to get those permutations done today. Alexander will watch over the shop," he grunted.

Her research with Belby had been moving quickly and intensely. All of the rumors about his harsh treatment of his apprentices had turned out to be true. She often found herself working well into the night for hours – sometimes staying all night – which had cut into her time with the Order and Remus. He was crude and often verbally abusive, and she could see how someone more sensitive or less determined than she would crumble under the pressure.

However, the standards that Belby set for his apprentices were only half as high as the ones he set for himself. He usually worked well into the night after she left, and on the rare occasion that he committed an error while concocting a potion, he'd throw a small tantrum, cursing at himself and her harshly and sometimes even throwing things. On a particularly bad day, he'd frightened her by throwing a cauldron of ruined potion at a wall. Despite all of the difficult aspects about his personality though, she had a deep sense of respect for the man for his convictions and brilliance, and because of that, no matter how hard he was on her, she never felt an inclination to quit. He wasn't totally unreasonable either – as long as she got her work done, he didn't care when she left in the evening. If she had a meeting with the Order, she'd leave before she was finished and would return early in the morning to complete her work.

However, Rowan still hadn't informed her Master of her involvement with the Order, and though she'd been working with him for nearly half a year, she still couldn't predict how he'd react. The only thing she'd been able to decipher thus far was the difference between his affirmative grunts and his negative ones. He was a volatile man of many contradictions, and she often would think that he'd respond in a certain way only to have him respond in the opposite. Though he was friends with Albus Dumbledore and seemed to have a strong sense of morals and virtue, she couldn't be sure that he'd be pleased to have an Order member as his apprentice.

They got to mixing permutations of their most recent research result, setting them aside to be tested later. They usually worked in silence, only speaking when they needed to exchange information, but Rowan realized that it'd been exactly six months since she'd begun to work for him and still knew next to nothing about his personal life or history.

"Master Belby, may I ask you a personal question?" she asked slowly.

He snorted. "I don't suppose you'd stop even if I said no," he said gruffly.

She grinned. "You know me so well," she said, but then she took on a more serious tone. "It's just that I don't really know anything about you, and I feel like it's not right."

He grunted. "Don't suppose why that's important," he said.

She smiled. "Well, I was wondering what house you were in at Hogwarts, for starters," she said.

"Ravenclaw," he responded shortly.

She thought about it for a second. "I suppose that makes sense," she said. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

He snorted. "I have a younger brother. He's a right bastard though," he growled.

She frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

He snorted again. "Don't be. He's a bumbling idiot," he retorted.

"Can you form a corporeal Patronus?" she asked.

He grunted in confirmation. "An elephant," he said.

She grinned. It seemed very fitting for some reason. "Favorite food?"

"Chocolate," he said shortly.

This was another surprise to add to her seemingly endless list. He certainly didn't seem like the type who would like sweets. It reminded her of Remus. She smiled warmly at the thought.

She remained silent for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon, but another question kept popping into her head. The first time they'd met he'd asked her who was so important to her that she'd be willing to risk her reputation and safety for this position. It had been eating at her since she began to work for him in June, and she frequently mulled over it during her work. It wasn't a question most people would think to ask. Who was so important to _him_ that he'd taken on such a task?

He was unmarried – that much was apparent. There were no pictures around his office, he wore no wedding band, and he didn't have the cared-for look of a married man. She highly doubted most women would approve of their husbands working so maniacally anyway. The thought of him being a gentle lover was such an absurd thought that it nearly made her laugh. So who was it then?

"Master Belby," she called quietly.

"Hm?" he grunted vaguely.

"When we first met at Hogwarts, you asked me a personal question about my reasons for wanting this," she said slowly.

She saw him stiffen from the corner of her eye but didn't face him. "What of it?" he asked.

"Well, I was wondering – what is _your_ reason?" she asked quietly. _Who?_

He didn't answer her question but kept working silently. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Finally, he answered, "That's none of your business, girl. Now stop asking inane questions."

She sighed softly but didn't fight back. Something painful must have happened to him, she thought. She was dying to know but resigned herself to the fact that she'd just have to wait. Perhaps he'd tell her one day.

* * *

Remus yawned, leaning his forehead against the cool surface of the staffroom table. He silently berated himself for staying up so late again, but every time he or Rowan were given a mission for the Order, he was always filled with an unspeakable fear that she'd be gone when the dust settled. The dark presence within him would roar with the need to feel her beneath him, to know that she was still whole, that she was still his. He felt incredibly guilty for taking his insecurities out on her, but he supposed there were worse ways to express them. He smirked quietly to himself - she certainly hadn't seemed to mind the night before. He felt a slow lingering heat at the memory of her trembling hips.

When he'd come in to see Fabian Prewett at the end of June to interview for a researching position at the Institute of Charms and Enchantments, he'd been surprised to meet a jovial man whose fiery hair rivaled even Lily's in temperature. He was stocky and relatively short with bright brown eyes with a loud booming laugh. He didn't asked Remus any questions specific to the position and informed him that it was merely a formality for protocol reasons – he'd already made up his mind to hire him. Remus' head spun at the whirlwind of a man's words and thought he might faint from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. He was once again eternally grateful once again to Professor Dumbledore who had apparently recommended him.

"And if Dumbledore says you're qualified – well, I'd be a right fool to disagree with him!" Prewett had laughed, grinning maniacally at the dumbfounded look on Remus' face.

Rowan had wept again when he returned to her apartment later that evening to tell her that he'd been hired on the spot. He hated it when she cried for him, but there was something about seeing her smile so brightly with tears in her eyes for him that made him praise the heavens that he'd been put on this earth.

"Late night, eh?" a loud voice boomed.

Remus looked up blearily to see Fabian grinning down at him with his usual pose of his hands on his hips and chest puffed out. Remus often mused that his boss looked like a large leprechaun, which Fabian found hilariously amusing.

Remus nodded and tried to stifle his next yawn. Fabian pulled up a seat next to him and looked at him more seriously.

"Gideon says you all did a protection job last night for the Macdougal family. Did everyone come out all right? How's that girl of yours?" he asked in hushed tones.

"Everyone's fine. Rowan's fine. Arthur got hit by a Stunner, but he's okay, just a little shaken up. I think Molly's nerves were what suffered most last night," he said, smiling weakly.

Gideon smiled thinly and nodded. "Yeah, Molly's a right nervous wreck sometimes. Lucky everyone got out okay though. Don't wear yourself too thin, all right?" he said concernedly as he stood to move back to his office.

Remus nodded at the older man and winced slightly as he slapped him on the back hard before he turned to leave. It still seemed strange to see the Prewett man so stern and was strangely grateful that it was a rare occurrence. Remus had been shocked when he'd been assigned to his first mission with a man that looked identical to his boss but quickly realized that they were identical twins. Gideon looked and sounded exactly the same as his brother, and they often spoke in unison and completed the each other's sentences, but Gideon was even more cheerful and loud, if possible. Fabian often took a more protective stance towards the younger man as opposed to Gideon's sometimes reckless behavior, and it still frequently confused Remus when figuring out how to react to either.

Although the past six months had been emotionally trying and increasingly dangerous, Remus was still incredibly happy. One of his best friends was getting married, he was with the love of his life, and his transformations continued to be milder than they had been in his adolescence. He still returned to the Shrieking Shack to transform, as it remained a safe place, and Madam Pomfrey still insisted on patching him up post-transformation without payment. He felt incredibly fortunate and humbled by the generosity that the people around him offered. Even his job - one that he hadn't considered at first glance - had been fulfilling and surprisingly interesting. He had learned more about defenses against dangerous magical creatures under Fabian's guidance in the past six months than he had in all his years at Hogwarts and was enthusiastically studying kappas, which Rowan found wildly entertaining.

But he hadn't been without his share of prejudices. Though he'd managed to keep his condition relatively secret thanks to Fabian's insistence that he need not share it, a few individuals in other departments had caught wind of it from the Department of Protective Charms – the first department he'd applied to work for and was rejected from for said condition. Every so often, he'd receive hostile glares or fearful glances from other researchers in the halls, and though he tried to not let it bother him, he still feared the day that someone confronted him about it.

But still, his life was good – a hundred times better than he would have ever expected even a year before. At 5 p.m., he stepped out of the ICE building onto the bustling London pavement and looked up at the sky. It was cold and crisp, and the sky was a brilliant combination of fuchsias and oranges. Rowan's bright eyes came to mind, and he wondered idly when she'd get done with work, hoping that she didn't push herself too hard after their late night. He headed home to his apartment, walking briskly through the crowds and cold, and decided to wait for her there – he knew she'd come to see him when she was ready.


	3. Of Homes Lost to War

**A/N**: I don't usually do this, but go to and search "Kayden + Rain." I was feeling really depressed and lonely, but this video made me feel surprisingly hopeful. It's not just a feel-good/happy thing. There's something so extraordinary and light about it that you can't help but feel like the world is a little better. If you're feeling upset at all, go watch it.

**SOMEBODY WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

**Chapter 3: Of Homes Lost to War**

On the evening of December 24th, Rowan and Remus approached the Delacroix Manor for Christmas Eve dinner. Remus squeezed Rowan's hand tightly. His palm was slightly sweaty and his stomach was in knots. He focused on the giant house in front of him, and the yellow light emitted from the numerous tall glass windows seemed rather menacing. Suddenly, he felt Rowan slow to a stop before they reached the door, and he looked down at her confusedly.

She smiled gently at him. "Remus," she started softly, "You don't need to be nervous. It's just dinner."

He grimaced and wanted to laugh humorlessly at her but didn't think he could muster that amount of vocal volume without vomiting. "It's not _just _dinner. Your dad already doesn't like me. I don't even know what I'm going to say to him yet," he breathed in a nervous rush. He ran a hand through his hair.

Rowan smiled thinly. She had told her father about Remus' condition a few months before when he'd moved out of his parents' home. Remus was a critical part of her life, and she wanted all of her loved ones to know it, which pleased the dark presence at the back of his mind but also distressed him greatly. He had nearly thrown up with relief when her mother had told him that she supported their relationship, but to say that her father had been displeased at the news of his condition would be an understatement.

Rowan and Richard had spent close to an hour arguing over her choice of boyfriend. His face had contorted with anger at the thought of his daughter seeing a werewolf, and he bellowed till his throat was sore that she was throwing her life away. But she stood steadfast against verbal assault, and by the end of the night, he'd been forced to accept that she wouldn't budge on the matter, though he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with the young man. They hadn't spoken about it since, but she insisted to Remus that it was just a matter of time before he understood.

It had taken a lot of pushing on James and Rowan's parts to convince Remus to come to the annual Potter/Delacroix Christmas Eve dinner. James was bringing Lily, obviously, and they argued that it made sense for Rowan to bring Remus, since their relationship was nearly as serious as the formers' and had existed twice as long at the very least. But Remus had been hesitant, to say the least – the knowledge of her father's disdain for him was sickening, and the thought of seeing him in person in such an intimate setting was terrifying. It had taken many weeks of reassuring him that she didn't care for him to even come close to accepting it. She admitted that her father's approval would mean a lot to her, but she was determined to be with him no matter what anyone said, which made Remus both proud and full of dread.

But as always, Remus couldn't say no to Rowan's pleading, and he found himself on the doorsteps of the incredibly intimidating Delacroix Manor. His family was well-off enough – his father made a decent living at the Ministry with enough to retire comfortably – but this was a different level of wealth that he'd never imagined. He knew the Potters and Delacroixs were old Pureblood families, but the enormity of their wealth was suddenly very real, and the anxiety that he'd felt before was multiplied. He suddenly felt very self-conscious about his appearance.

He looked down at her, feeling nauseous, but she smiled at him encouragingly before pulling him up the remaining steps and walking into the foyer. Remus was relieved momentarily when Alfred emerged to greet them first, hugging Rowan tightly and shaking Remus' hand warmly. He told them that Richard still hadn't returned from the Ministry but would be home soon, and as they moved to the dining room, Rowan's fingers laced between his reassuringly. He grimaced but braced himself, following her into the house.

* * *

"I wonder what's keeping the Potters," Rowan said quietly, looking over at the kitchen clock again. They were supposed to have arrived ten minutes before, and it wasn't like them to be late. Julia Potter was nothing if not punctual, and she was very efficient at keeping the men in her family in line with her schedules. Rowan couldn't remember the last time they were late for an event. She felt a chill creep up her spine that she couldn't shake. Her foot twitched nervously.

Remus was sitting next to her, but he hadn't seemed to notice her distress as he was pointedly attempting to avoid eye contact with Richard. The older man had been staring him down since arriving home twenty minutes earlier, and the stress was wearing on him greatly.

"Richard, leave the poor boy alone," a voice called out.

The older man looked up from his visual assault to see his wife sitting down next to him at the table. She also looked concerned.

"It's not like Julia to be late," she said softly, mostly to herself. "I hope nothing has happened." The two women shared a grimace, and Rowan couldn't help but feel an overwhelming wave of dread wash over her.

As if answering her thought, a silvery light emerged from the wall. Alfred hurried into the room after it, eyes wide with fear. Rowan's stomach dropped, and she felt Remus' hand grip hers painfully when it took the form of a stag – it was James' Patronus.

His voice echoed eerily from the bright light: "_We've been attacked. Call Dumbledore. Please hurry."_ And with that, it vanished without a trace.

Rowan's heart stopped for a moment before turning to Remus, who was already gazing at her with fear written across his features.

She stood to her feet suddenly and thrust her wand into the air. "_Expecto Patronum!"_ A wolf flew from her wand and disappeared. Remus followed suit, and his wolf vanished after hers.

"We have to go," she breathed in a rush, and he nodded. Her parents both stood jerkily, looking pale.

"What do you mean? _Where_ do you have to go?" her father demanded.

She looked at him fiercely, anger rising quickly. "Dad, we have to meet the other Order members, to the Potters' house. We _have to go!"_ she half-shouted.

Richard's face contorted angrily. "_NO!_" he shouted. The sudden volume made Rowan jump. "No, you cannot expect me to let you go fight like this! You don't even know how many there are! You could be outnumbered!" he cried indignantly. He moved to block her path from the door.

Rowan felt rage spike through her hotly. "Dad, I don't have _time_ for this!" she shouted. "_Get out of my way!"_

"_At least let me come with you then_!" he shouted.

Rowan wanted to punch her father. "Fine, just GET OUT OF THE WAY!" she bellowed, pushing him out of the doorway and running down the hall with Remus close behind her. She could hear her father shouting a goodbye to her mother before stumbling after the two. As they hit the cobblestone walkway, the three of them Disapparated on the spot for the Potters' home, the icy air seeping through their pores and churning in their guts.

* * *

Rowan could barely breathe. There was a glowing green skull floating menacingly above the Potter house. As Remus and her father appeared beside her, they stood for a moment in silence, the terror seizing all of them. Rowan could barely move at the sight of the eerie glow – the Death Eaters only released the Dark Mark when someone had been killed.

She felt her legs moving towards the house before she could stop herself. She vaguely heard Remus call after her to wait, but she was sprinting as hard as she could, the cold winter air stabbing her lungs harshly and the snow crunching beneath her feet deafeningly. As she reached the door, she drew her wand, but just as she was about to open it, it burst open.

She found herself in a standoff, both people staring down the ends of each other's wands. It was Sirius.

"Identify yourself!" he shouted angrily at her, though his eyes wavered.

She took a shaky breath, steadying herself. "I am Rowan Delacroix, girlfriend of Remus Lupin. I once pushed you into the lake during our Fifth Year. We met on the Hogwarts Express on the first day of school," she breathed quickly. "Now you," she gestured jerkily.

He stared at her with wide eyes and nostrils flaring. His face was smeared with – was that blood? Her stomach lurched. "My name is Sirius Black, boyfriend of Mina Surrey. For your seventeenth birthday in July, James and I took you for ice cream and a Muggle movie. I go by the nickname Padfoot," he replied shakily.

His words sank in slowly, and when he lowered his wand, she was taken off balance as he threw his arms around her. She felt his shoulders trembling, and her body seemed to absorb the vibration, shaking as well.

Remus and Richard had made it up to the house by this point. The older man grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and pried him off of Rowan. He looked at him fiercely and shook him slightly. "Where is John? _Where is James' father?"_ he demanded. His eyes were wide with panic. Rowan had never heard her father's voice tremble in such a way. She suddenly realized that she could barely see anything. It was so dark. What had happened to all of the lights?

But then Sirius' lips began to tremble, and Rowan's stomach dropped again. She couldn't breathe. Richard's eyes widened even further, mouth gaping and gasping for breath. He pushed Sirius aside and stumbled blindly into the house. Rowan tore after him, leaving Sirius and Remus in the doorway. She vaguely heard them whisper something rushed to each other.

She followed her father into the Potters' kitchen where her stomach lurched painfully at the sight. Julia Potter was lying on the table with Lily hunched over the her, softly muttering incantations with a cold icy light emitting from her wand, illuminating the dark room and the girl's face eerily. Her hands were covered with blood. As Rowan moved closer, she saw that there was a large, bloody gash in the older woman's chest, just below her right collarbone. She was wheezing painfully but seemed to be unconscious. It sounded as if there was fluid in her lungs.

She watched her friend dumbly for a moment as the redhead slowly close the wound before realizing that John Potter's body wasn't there. She jerked her head around to scan the room quickly and saw that there were bloody rags scattered across the floor. Most of the chairs were broken in pieces with wood from the walls and furniture scattered in splinters among the rags There was a bloody handprint smeared across the far wall.

Rowan finally spotted her father and James stooped in the corner, hunched over a dark figure on the ground, and Rowan suddenly knew why the Dark Mark floated above the house. She felt her lungs constrict and struggled to breathe as she saw her James' form tremble violently, kneeling over his father's body and sobbing. She heard a frightening groan and realized with horror that it had come from her friend, who had pulled his father's body to his, rocking them both with muffled sobs. Richard had collapsed backward onto his rear and hands and stared dumbly at his oldest friend's limp form before burying his face in his hands and letting out a gasping sob. It shook her deep at the core.

Rowan wanted desperately to do something, to help somehow, but as she looked at Lily, James and her father, she realized that she couldn't do anything for any of them. She was mortified that she couldn't even move to try to console the two men, but what could she possibly say to them? She'd never felt so helpless, so weak, and she felt a surge of angry frustration bursting from her throat but bit it down. It escaped silently from her eyes in a hot stream of tears.

She jumped at the sound of sudden movement and turned jerkily to see Sirius, Remus, Kingsley, and Dumbledore emerging into the kitchen quickly but cautiously. Remus moved to stand next to Rowan by the table, and she could feel his gaze on her. She had placed her hands on the edge to support herself, as she feared that her legs might give out on her just like her lungs seemed to. _Why_ _was she so useless?_

Dumbledore and Kingsley looked over Julia's still form. Lily had finally stopped chanting and had lit her wand to illuminate the room. Her face was paler than Rowan had ever seen, and her jumper was caked with congealing blood. The wound in Julia's chest had finally stopped bleeding, but she was still wheezing. Her face was covered in a thin film of sweat and dirt.

"I've closed the wound, but she needs to get to St. Mungo's immediately," Lily whispered quickly to Dumbledore. "I think she punctured a lung, and the curse they used was extremely dark magic. I don't know if my spells will hold the wound for long." He nodded and looked to Kingsley who moved forward with his wand drawn. He floated the woman off the table and headed towards the door. Lily followed closely behind, and a faint popping could be heard from outside as they Disapparated with the injured woman.

James' sobbing had quieted, though he was still clutching his dead father's body desperately. Richard had also stilled eerily but remained on the floor with his face in his hands. Rowan was suddenly struck with the realization that she barely recognized him. Remus' hand covered hers and squeezed it tightly.

Dumbledore finally spoke. "We need to move his body and report his murder to the Ministry so they can begin searching for the culprits and place additional protection around Julia at St. Mungo's," he said quietly but firmly.

Sirius let out a barking laugh. It was cold and deafening in the dark silence. Rowan flinched at the sound. "The Ministry? _The Ministry?_" he asked incredulously. His voice was shrill with indignation. "Mr. Potter _worked_ for the Ministry! How the fuck is the _Ministry_ going to protect _anyone?_" he shouted. He was hysterical with his arms jerking wildly and tears escaping from his eyes.

"It's all we can do for now," Dumbledore responded calmly. "We need to move now though. We don't know if the Death Eaters will return to finish their work here. We need to get to headquarters now."

James remained still though, and for a few deathly quiet moments, Rowan thought that perhaps he and her father had died in the silence as well. Neither moved, and she couldn't even see the rise and fall of their backs for breath.

Finally, she jerked her head up as she saw Remus move forward quietly, kneeling down besides James and whispering something to him softly. He placed his hands gently on James', and after a moment, the dark-haired boy's hold loosened, laying his father's body back down to the ground gingerly, as if he were made of paper-thin glass.

Remus then looked over to Richard, and Rowan felt her eyes burn again with tears at the sight of him placing his hand firmly but gently on the older man's arm and pulling him up to his feet. Richard staggered but stood slowly, still unseeing. His face looked so much heavier than she'd ever seen, and she realized just how old he'd become over the recent years. Remus squeezed his shoulder again before letting go.

As James stood, Rowan mustered up the courage to move forward hesitantly and grasp her father's hand. He squeezed her hand tightly, and she returned it, guiding him backward gently as Remus levitated John's still form and moved towards the doorway. Rowan followed him, a sudden wave of determination taking over her, and she firmly pulled her father with her. James and Sirius followed slowly, neither speaking nor looking at each other, and Dumbledore held the rear.

As they exited, Rowan looked back again above the house. The nightmarish green light was no longer there, but the air seemed dead, as if the skull had consumed it. As Remus, Rowan, and her father stood and waited for the other three men to join them, Rowan looked at Remus. He was watching her carefully, and she gazed at him fiercely, overwhelmed with the loud silence, grief, and her admiration for him. She couldn't find the words, but as he took a deep breath and looked at her, she knew that he understood. Her father gazed at the house longingly. She could almost imagine the lost memories playing in his mind.

The last three met them finally, and Rowan looked one more time at the Potters' home, so dark and foreign looking. It didn't look anything like the same house that she'd known her whole life, and as they Disapparated for the Order headquarters, she thought to herself that she never wanted to see it again.


	4. Of All-Consuming Pain

**A/N**: This story is definitely harder to write than the last. I'm hoping it'll start flowing better soon. The beginning is always the most awkward, I guess.

**SOMEBODY WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Of All-Consuming Pain**

John Potter's funeral was a tasteful and subtle affair, though none could remember much of it through the tears. Many came, and all mourned deeply, and as they set his body into the ground, Rowan felt something in the wind turn cold. He had been a bright presence, and the loss of his light in the days of war made the Wizarding world seem much darker. The end of the year slipped by quietly without much notice from the grieving Order.

Julia Potter had recovered at St. Mungo's but remained weak. She moved in with the Delacroixs and had been spending most of her time in her room alone, mourning her husband quietly. The Potter house remained empty after one more sweep through a few days after John's death, as James and Julia had been unable to step into their old home without succumbing to the memories of Christmas Eve in a bout of grief. Remus, Sirius, Rowan and Richard had gone together to gather some of the Potters' belongings and had remained silent coming and going, each wordlessly praying that they'd never have to step foot there again.

Just as Sirius had assumed, the Ministry hadn't been able to help the Potter family at all. The Order scoured through their lists of known Death Eaters, but James couldn't recognize any of them. The men who had murdered John Potter were still at large, and though Sirius, Mina, and James spent all of their spare time at the Auror department looking for clues, they continued to come up dry.

Rowan was growing concerned for James for he had begun to show behaviors beyond the normal indications of grief. He took on more and more missions for the Order and returned from each with a strange mania in his eyes that frightened all of them, particularly Lily. Lily confided in Rowan and Mina that he hadn't touched her in weeks, and she was often too scared to sleep in the same bed with him as he thrashed wildly and often woke screaming in the middle of the night with blind rage. Even bold Gideon had reprimanded him a couple of times for being too reckless, though James hadn't taken the stern words to heart.

Rowan was hoping to speak to James about it after their next mission together, as they had been partnered with Arthur Weasley and Gideon Prewett again for a protection mission. It was similar to their previous one for the Macdougals, though it was supposed to be less dangerous. Emmeline Vance and Dedalus Diggle also were there for backup, but the team was hoping that they would be able to get things done quickly and cleanly without resorting to the last pair's assistance.

Arthur and Rowan were hidden within the bushes, Disillusioned, watching the doorway of the Moira family's house with bated breath. James and Gideon were hidden in another group of bushes beneath James' Invisibility Cloak. Again, Rowan mused that time seemed to slow in the dark and was quickly growing impatient when a series of tendrils smoked out of the darkness into the cold light of the front porch. Two Death Eaters appeared, masks glinting. Rowan and Arthur had just silently aimed their wands to the ground to release their trapping enchantments at the Death Eaters' feet when they jumped at a loud shriek.

James had burst from his hiding spot with a shrill battle cry against procedure with Gideon frantically groping after both his partner and the Invisibility Cloak but to no avail. Rowan felt like she was moving through water with the waves crashing in her ears as she saw a flash of green light barely miss the top of James' head as he shot forward, tackling one of the Death Eaters to the ground.

"_James!_" she screamed, jumping from her hiding spot and throwing a Stunning Spell at the attacking Death Eater, but he deflected it just in time. Arthur had scrambled after her in an attempt to get her to stay hidden but ended up tumbling after her, a mess of flailing limbs. He shielded them both barely as the Death Eater threw another Killing Curse at them. Gideon took the moment to attack him from behind, landing a Stunner at his back, and the masked figure fell to the ground with a grunt.

But another group of four Death Eaters broke from the darkness, attacking the Order members with flashing hexes. James finally managed to knock out the Death Eater he'd been wrestling and scrambled to his feet, charging at the next one he saw.

Rowan felt a surge of blinding fear as she saw him running into the heat of the battle without any Shield Charms. He was throwing spells blindly, narrowly missing Gideon, who luckily dodged a red flash of light.

"THAT FUCKING IDIOT!_"_ the older man screamed, luckily hitting one of the remaining Death Eaters with a Stunning Spell just before he was about to throw a hex at James. Rowan was trying desperately to follow James' path, throwing Shield Charms at him while also attempting to preemptively hit the Death Eaters with her own hexes before they could attack the manic young man.

Emmeline and Dedalus suddenly burst from the house to help their comrades, and Rowan felt immense relief at seeing the Death Eaters being pushed back. One fled as he saw that he was being overpowered, and another fell unconscious at a flash of red light. Just as Rowan was about to curse the last, she saw a glimmer of blue light erupting from the tip of the Death Eater's wand, aimed directly at James, who was still throwing curses in a drunken rage. A wave of sickening panic overcame her, and before she could stop herself, she'd launched her body into his. She felt her feet leave the ground and her body slam into his, throwing him down violently. She heard Arthur shout and throw red at the Death Eater and saw the figure collapse.

But just as the dark form hit the ground, she felt an excruciating pain hit her side in a searing cold light and then felt a crack somewhere in her torso as she hit a tree and tumbled to the ground. She heard rather than felt herself cry out in pain.

But then there was a cold burning at her side, and she couldn't stop screaming. It was eating her skin, searing it, burning it. It was freezing cold, but it burned. _It burned!_ She didn't know if it was her own voice that was screaming or someone else – it sounded so otherworldly, so disembodied. Could that really be her screaming?

There were hands on her, holding her limbs down, but she tore wildly at her restrainers. She was blind with white light behind her eyes, so bright and painful. Her head felt like it was splitting open, and she was tearing, scratching at robes and skin and dirt – anything she could to make the pain stop. She wanted to tear her own skin off. She felt herself lose consciousness in the agony. Everything went white, and the last thing she remembered was the sound of her own screaming.

* * *

"_Rowan._"

Someone was calling her. They were so far though. Everything sounded so muffled, so distant. Her head pounded with her own heartbeat. It was deafening. It was so difficult trying to open her eyes. They seemed to be fifty times heavier than they'd been before. Someone needed to pry her eyelids open.

Then there was a dull ache in her back as she attempted to move. She couldn't though. Her limbs felt so heavy. Why couldn't she move? Her side was freezing cold. Or was it burning? She couldn't tell. It felt cold, but it seared dully like an old burn. Why was she feeling this way?

She finally was able to creak open one eye and saw that she was lying on her back on a hard surface and there were stars above her. Was she in the dirt? Had she died and woken just as they were about to bury her?

"Rowan!"

She forced her other eye open but couldn't move her head. Her neck felt so stiff, and her head felt even heavier than her limbs. She wasn't sure if she couldn't even open her mouth to speak. Did she have a voice? Her body felt so tired.

A mop of messy dark hair appeared in her vision, then a pair of glasses. Oh. _James._

"Rowan," he whispered. His eyes were bright, and there was a bright red bruise on his cheek. Had she done that to him? No, she couldn't remember hitting him. How had she gotten there to begin with?

"Rowan," he said again. "I'm so sorry," he whispered frantically. "I'm _so_ _sorry_. I can't… I can't believe what you just did. Y-you… It's so stupid. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry," he rambled in a rushed breath.

She didn't know what he was talking about, and she still couldn't move her head. Her eyelids still felt so heavy. She closed them again and tried to remain conscious when she felt an icy blue jolt to her chest that shot up her spine with a gasping breath. She shot up and choked on her own lungs, holding her stomach as it cramped with the painful coughing. Her throat seared. She looked up finally and saw Emmeline holding her wand with a grim look on her face – she must have used some rejuvenating charm on her.

Finally, the battle came rushing back to her in a reeling flash. The hex, the pain, _James_.

She turned toward her friend and saw him flinch slightly at her gaze. The rage surged through her in a blinding heat, and she threw her fist out, colliding it with his jaw.

He grunted in pain and fell backward onto an elbow. Her hand ached from the bony collision, but she relished it and almost wanted to hit him again.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" she shouted at him. She smacked him hard, open-palmed, against his arm with an echoing slap as he sat up again. He flinched in pain but accepted it.

"You nearly killed _all of us!_" she shrieked. "Do you have _any idea_ how _fucking stupid_ you are? I nearly _died_ because of you! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

James stared at the ground with loose hands, kneeling beside her, as if posed to accept her punishment. The pathetic look on his face didn't soften her anger, however, and she had to suppress the urge to slap him again. But another cold searing pain shot through her head, and she doubled over in agony, clutching her throbbing skull with a soft whimper.

James jerked up at the sound of her pain, but she flailed an arm out wildly to prevent any of her teammates from touching her, afraid that the contact would be too much to handle. She rocked silently for a moment, clutching her eyes shut before starting again.

"_Seriously, you stupid fucking bastard_," she whispered venomously. She was in too much pain to muster more voice, but her anger was still so overwhelming that she needed to berate him more. "Have you even once stopped to consider what your mother would do if you got hurt? What _Lily _would do?" she whispered. She felt her eyes sting and wasn't sure if it was from her anger or pain. "You're getting married soon, aren't you? _Grow the fuck up already!_"

James stared dumbfounded at her silently. The older members remained standing awkwardly, watching the two younger members' emotional exchange, unsure of how to comport themselves. James' fingers clutched the icy dirt next to Rowan but didn't touch her out of fear that she'd lash out at him again or that he'd hurt her. She was still clutching her head in pain but had stopped rocking, seemingly containing it better.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, squinting with effort, he looked truly ashamed. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. Rowan grimaced but nodded, reaching a hand around blindly for someone to help her to her feet. James scrambled up and pulled her up gently, balancing her as she stumbled slightly with her head spinning.

She breathed shakily and tried to steady herself. The group remained silent for a moment, each trying to figure out how to help the injured young woman.

"Well," Gideon coughed awkwardly, "I suppose we should head back to the Ministry then Headquarters." Rowan noted dumbly that a couple of the older men were holding onto a Death Eater. She counted slowly – two… that meant they'd only gotten a third of them.

James stepped up beside her and took her hand in his hesitantly. She still felt a dull anger towards him but was too fatigued to fight him. She also knew she was much too weak to Disapparate alone. She closed her eyes and leaned into him in exhaustion. As they were sucked into the void, she mused darkly that Remus would be very mad at the both of them.


	5. Of Death's Whispered Promises

**A/N**: I think the last chapter was a little better. Things will finally start picking up, which I think will help with the jerkiness of the previous chapters. Also, I don't think I'll have as many sexual scenes in this story. I guess they could fit later on, but for now, it doesn't seem to make sense in the context of the tone I'm setting. Do you guys want that sort of thing?

This one is kind of short and internal, but I think it's important for Rowan and Remus' approach towards the war.

**SOMEBODY WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Of Death's Whispered Promises**

Just as Rowan had predicted, Remus had been furious with both her and James when they'd returned to Headquarters after their nearly disastrous mission. She'd just about been unconscious with a couple of broken ribs when they stumbled into the kitchen together. Remus' hands had immediately fallen on her with finger prying at her side and face, rushed breaths and panicked words falling from his mouth, though she could barely remember any of it. She was glad at that moment that she had very few physical indications of her injuries and no signs of the cursed burning pain, as Remus didn't need a visual reminder of her narrow escape. Arthur had to hold him back from hitting James when he found out what happened at the Moira residence.

The three spent the night at Headquarters with Remus' arms wrapped tightly around Rowan's unconscious form. After Rowan came to early the next morning, luckily a weekend, she and James had a long discussion about his recent erratic behavior. She had guessed correctly that it was an unhealthy expression of his grief for his father's murder, but the cold reality of seeing his best friend nearly killed because of him seemed to have woken him up from his vengeful haze. She ended up slapping him again, though not as hard as the night before, and told him to shape up soon – if he still wanted Lily to marry him, he was going to have to start treating her better, and his eyes widened with fear at the suggestion that Lily might leave him. When she showed up later in the morning panicking that he hadn't come home, he kissed her desperately as if he hadn't seen her in months, and Rowan was happy to see the relief on Lily's face as they left together.

The entire ordeal had been sobering, to say the least. She didn't know how to feel as she was left in the silence of the Order Headquarters' drawing room. Her hands shook slightly when she realized how close she had been to death, and though she had brushed it off when talking to James and Remus, she could still feel the dull searing in her side from just the memory of the cold fire there the night before. She reached to touch her side every few minutes to make sure that her skin was still there and whole, and it strangely made her hurt even more at the realization that there was no physical mark left to indicate that it had happened at all, as if it cheapened or delegitimized the excruciating pain that she'd felt.

When Remus quietly reentered the room after James left, she was seated in an old chair, trembling and breathing raggedly, pushing the memory of the hex away from her mind. He knelt in front of her and gripped her hands tightly, frowning with concern at her. She realized that her face was contorted with pain again, though she felt none, and the confusion left her frustrated with stinging eyes.

The fire in Remus' eyes burned through her, and she wanted to be consumed in it, to not have to think. He stood and scooped her almost effortlessly from the chair before sitting down in it himself and cradling her in his lap. She was overcome by his warmth and the feeling of his hands on her and felt the tears spilling from her eyes before she could stop them.

She was afraid, so overwhelmingly afraid. The fear ran through her veins and churned her stomach – what if that Death Eater had thrown a Killing Curse instead? She should be _dead_. She had almost killed Arthur as well! She felt a sob erupt from her chest, and Remus squeezed her tightly, pulling the tears from her. She clung to him desperately and buried her face in his neck, ashamed of herself for her cowardice and for giving Remus yet another thing to worry about. He already obsessed unhealthily about her well-being – how could she give him another reason to fear for her? She wanted to scream with frustration at her weakness. Why couldn't she be stronger? She was alive and without any permanent damage after all, right? Why couldn't she just shake it off?

But she continued to cry quietly. Remus held her tightly, silent but comforting, and she could almost pretend that, in his arms, she was safe from the horrors of the war outside those walls.

* * *

Remus insisted fiercely that Rowan take a couple weeks off from the Order, and she didn't fight him for once. She told their friends that she had a lot of work with Belby, but really, she was going home at normal hours and just laying quietly in bed with Remus, limbs tangled with his and basking in his warmth. The remaining memories of her flirtation with death was still painful, though not quite as raw, and she suddenly understood Remus' need to make love to her after every mission – the simple feeling of touching him, of knowing that he was there beside her reaffirmed both his existence and hers, and in those frenzied passionate moments, she knew she was very much alive.

When she returned to the Order, James was still contrite to the point of being awkward. James had _never_ been awkward with her, and the confusion that it instilled in her was painful. After a couple of days, she had to punch him again to make him stop treating her so delicately, and he thankfully seemed to return back to normal, though he would still shoot a few guilty glances her way when he thought she wasn't looking.

Lily had embraced her so tightly that it slightly hurt her injured ribs. James had returned home to her and slept soundly for the first time in weeks after their ordeal, and Lily was extremely grateful to Rowan knowing that it had been her words that had woken him up. Rowan didn't really know how to respond to this and joked reassuringly that he had just needed someone to beat it into him. Lily beamed at her, and Rowan felt slightly dirty as she heard the quiet voice at the back of her mind whisper its fears and anxieties to her. _She doesn't know that you're actually a coward_. She prayed that they wouldn't see it in her face.

* * *

The next few months passed quickly and with little development. The Dark Lord's movements seemed to have slowed a bit, and the Order of the Phoenix was growing antsy with anxiety, waiting with bated breath for news of the next tragedy.

Remus had withdrawn into himself slightly since her brush with death, and she sometimes saw him looking at her hungrily when he thought she wasn't paying attention, just as he did right before he left her at the end of their Sixth Year. For the first few weeks, she watched him silently, terrified that at any moment he'd tell her that he was leaving her again. But the moment never came, and though his dark brooding remained, it was infrequent, and he never made any mention of having reservations about their relationship. She rationalized that it was just because he was worried about her and the lack of Death Eater activity and forced herself to not dwell on it. If he'd wanted to leave her, he would have done so already.


	6. Of Where One's Future Lies

**A/N**: This story has been picking up more slowly than the last... Maybe because it's a sequel? Feeling kinda lonely T-T

Thanks to **sarahmichellegellarfan1, missalex3030, and loulouflowerpower** for the sweet reviews! I'm glad the change in tone from the previous story is being received well. **Sarahmichelle**, I can always count on you for the most enthusiasm and encouragement, and it warms my heart haha. Also, I've been having problems with this story not showing up on searches too, so I'm not sure what's up with the alerts and whatnot. I sent an email to the support staff, but we'll see.

**REVIEW MEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Of Where One's Future Lies**

June arrived quickly with still very little movement from the Death Eaters. Despite the warm sun and energy of the city in the summer, Rowan still felt the anxiety that something bad was waiting to happen. Remus' slight withdrawal remained, though it hadn't worsened, and Rowan mused that it was possible that this was how he was going to remain for as long as they continued fighting in the war. She wondered if she would be able to withstand it.

But one thing she could be genuinely happy about was James and Lily's wedding. Sirius was James' best man, and though Lily had asked Rowan to be her Maid of Honor, she'd declined politely and said that Mina should walk down the aisle with Sirius – the thought of that much responsibility also irked her. Though Lily had looked slightly disappointed, she'd promised her friend to give a speech at the reception, which Mina was pleased with, as she hated public speaking.

The ceremony had been short and simple. Remus gave Lily away as both James and Lily's fathers had already passed, and Rowan found it quite humorous and endearing to see Remus so bashfully take on the paternal role. Julia had cried delicately as the bride and groom exchanged vows, and as they said, "I do," Rowan was filled with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction – something about the pair together simply seemed right.

The reception was located beneath a large illuminated tent in the countryside, boisterous and exciting, just as one would expect from a Marauders party. The champagne flowed freely, and Sirius made sure that everyone got up to dance at least for one song. Before the cake was cut, he gave a surprisingly appropriate and funny speech, poking jokes at mostly James' expense. Rowan then stood and gave a heartfelt toast, honestly expressing her long-felt thoughts that if anyone was meant to be together, it was James and Lily. The bride wiped away a few happy tears and hugged Rowan affectionately, and James embraced her fiercely, sharing a warm, knowing look that spoke to their lifelong friendship. Rowan felt a little ashamed at the small mourning feeling in her gut that told her that he was Lily's best friend now, not hers.

She danced several songs with Remus, then a couple with the other three Marauders and even forced Mad-Eye to join her for a slow song, which he grumbled and grunted about but humored her, much to the delight of the Order members, who all hooted and catcalled at him. Rowan hadn't felt so light in months.

Finally, her father pulled her away for a dance, and she felt slightly embarrassed but allowed him to lead her in a waltz. He looked very handsome in his dress robes, but she noted that his hair had turned quite gray through the stress of the recent months. His face had never held so many lines before - wouldn't he be turning seventy soon? They danced in silence for a while before he spoke quietly to her.

"James and Lily are quite young to be getting married," he noted.

Rowan smiled mildly and nodded. "Yeah, I thought so too, but it sort of makes sense, those two being together," she said softly, glancing at the newlyweds who were once again in their own world.

Richard nodded in response and paused for a moment before continuing. "You and the Lupin boy – are you planning on marrying him?" he asked slowly.

Rowan was taken aback by the sudden question and feared for a moment that he was going to start an argument with her in the middle of the party, but though his expression was slightly stiff, he didn't look angry at all. She relaxed and responded honestly, "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I suppose that'd be the most sensible and natural conclusion though."

He nodded slowly, taking in her words carefully, assessing them. "Alright," he said softly. Rowan looked at him in confusion – had he just give her his blessing to marry Remus?

"I still don't know how I feel about you being with someone with his condition but…" he trailed off for a moment and glanced at Remus, who was talking with Fabian and Gideon Prewett. "… He seems like a good man," he admitted, and Rowan beamed at her father. He smiled back at her warmly, melting at the sight of his daughter's happy expression, but then his face grew serious again. "But make sure that that's what he wants," he said solemnly. Rowan felt confused again. "Just because he loves you doesn't mean that he has any intention of committing to you completely. After all, he is a – _you know," _he said quietly. "I'm not saying that he's dishonorable," he rushed to clarify. "I'm just saying that he has very different circumstances to consider, and he might not see marriage in his future due to those circumstances."

Rowan felt her chest constrict. She'd never thought of it in that way and was struck by how thoroughly her father had thought it through. He was right, after all – Remus was an honorable man, but she'd never even considered how his condition might affect his views on marrying her. What if he hadn't even considered it? Would she be waiting for him forever? Should it even matter to her if he planned on marrying her officially?

Richard saw the understanding washing over his daughter's face and felt a pang of guilt at the hurt there. "I just want to make sure you're taken care of," he concluded softly, and she nodded slowly, head full and swimming with her new thoughts.

The song ended, and Rowan suddenly felt overwhelmed by the noise and number of people around her. Her father let her go with a sympathetic look but said nothing and walked off to find Carole. Rowan stood on the dance floor still and looked around her for a quiet place to hide away in for a bit. She saw a flap in the tent billowing in the summer breeze and made a beeline for it, ducking out and into the warm night air.

* * *

Remus had been watching Rowan out of the corner of his eye all evening. She looked beautiful in the rare dress and heels with her hair liquidly falling about her and quietly cherished each smile and flare of skirt that she flashed. He had even enjoyed watching her dance with their other male friends and acquaintances despite his usual jealousy. Seeing her drag Mad-Eye onto the dancefloor had actually been quite entertaining.

The past four months had been tense and cloudy. After her injury, he'd seen the dark shadows of fear in her and felt that icy chill crawl up his spine with dread. He held her late into the night even after she'd fallen asleep and memorized her face, the rhythm of her breathing. He'd come so close to losing her, and he hadn't been there to protect her like he'd sworn to himself. He went to Dumbledore and begged to be placed on more missions with her, but the Headmaster had cryptically responded with an indefinite answer, leaving him angry and fearful. The thought of her getting hurt again weighed down on him heavily, and though he tried to fight it, he felt like it might be the last time every time he touched her.

Seeing her so happy and carefree had been like a cool breeze of ocean air, but when her father had invited her to dance, he felt a strange dreading ache. He had been considerably warmer to Remus after John Potter had passed away, but he still saw the assessing looks the older man would shoot his way every so often and wondered what he really thought of him. He watched them speak quietly while they danced and admired the easy grace they shared – she truly was an aristocrat's daughter – but when he saw Rowan's face melt with concerned thoughts, he began to worry. Richard had glanced at him momentarily, and Remus had a terrible suspicion that they were talking about him. He was pleased to see that Richard's face held no malice or resentment, but Rowan's expression comforted him very little. When the older man left her on the dancefloor at the end of the song, she stood there lost in thought before looking around as if she'd forgotten where she was and then disappeared beyond the tent flaps without a sound.

He excused himself from his conversation with the Prewett brothers and made his way after her. He needed to know what had happened between her and her father.

* * *

Rowan was sitting in the grass at the top of a nearby hill with her tall shoes tossed to the side. The tent was perched at the bottom, between a couple of small grassy waves in a large field, and she hoped that her position would allow her to avoid anyone from the party. She laid back in the grass and was reminded of her old spot in the Hogwarts grounds with Remus, though she mused that they always spent their time in the sun, not the moonlight.

Marriage – it wasn't something she thought of often, and she'd never been the sort of little girl who'd imagined her dress or her groom in her private fantasies. She'd always enjoyed weddings, but for some reason, she'd never considered that one day _she'd_ be that blushing bride. Though she had always vaguely imagined that she would get married _eventually,_ sometimes she thought it would simply be out of obligation as a Delacroix. The idea gave her mixed feelings.

Remus had changed a lot of things in her opinions on marriage. When he said that he'd always love her, she'd just assumed that marriage was the logical conclusion, though it didn't much matter to her _when_ they married. She was in no rush, and she knew he was hers. It all just seemed like a matter of time.

But her father had brought up very valid questions. She hadn't even thought about how his opinions of marriage might differ from hers because of his condition. Would he want to have children? She knew from her research that it wouldn't affect his ability to reproduce, but he was already so guilt-ridden with her and even if there was no evidence of it affecting children, Remus might not want to risk passing his condition on to a child. Her stomach churned with dread – how would she ever convince him that he'd make a good husband, a good father, despite his handicap?

What if he had no intention of marrying her? Would he stay with her and just never make her his wife, or would he leave her eventually to be alone? Could she handle being his woman, but not his wife? Would she grow tired of waiting and leave him? The thought of any of it made her chest tighten. She spread her limbs out around her and stared at the moon. _Fuck the moon_, she thought bitterly, glaring up at it.

"It's dangerous to be out here alone, you know," a calm voice said from just below her.

Rowan raised her hand slightly in greeting but didn't look up. She knew who it was, had been able to tell by his footsteps. She wasn't sure if she was pleased or disappointed that he'd followed her out of the party.

Remus sat down next to her and slipped his jacket and shoes off as well before leaning back on his hands to gaze up at the moon with her. She noted that he hadn't worn socks, and she mused to herself that her dislike of the small article of clothing was beginning to rub off on him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while before he asked the question she knew he'd been keeping to himself.

"So what were you and your dad talking about that made you come out here?" he asked quietly.

Rowan thought quietly for a moment without answering and considered her options. Should she tell him? She knew he'd be able to tell if she fed him a lie – would she be able to brush it off and evade the question long enough for him to lose interest?

She decided, _probably not_. "He asked me if I was going to marry you," she finally replied honestly, plainly.

Remus looked down at her and frowned but said nothing. She didn't look at him, afraid of what she'd see there if she looked too hard. She was determined not to elaborate any further unless he continued to pry – she didn't want to think too much about it if she didn't need to, and she didn't want to fight, at least not then.

"Is that it?" he continued. She grimaced inwardly – he _had_ to ask. She couldn't read his tone from the simple question and dreaded his reaction.

"No," she replied. She paused and considered her words before continuing. "He brought up some interesting questions I hadn't thought of, and it made me see that I'd been very inconsiderate, so I came out here to think," she said. It wasn't necessarily the full story, but she wasn't being dishonest.

Remus frowned again. "What questions?" he asked quietly. Rowan wanted to groan in frustration. Why did he have to keep prying?

"Questions about your opinions on marriage, I suppose," she responded. She figured he was going to keep asking until he got the full answers now, so there was no point in hiding them any longer. "He asked if I'd considered if you'd even _wanted_ to get married, and I realized I hadn't thought of it that way. I should have thought to ask you. I'd just assumed that we would, but that was sort of closed-minded of me," she said calmly, though she felt anything but calm. Her head was pounding in her skull and her chest felt tight.

Remus didn't respond, and she felt her stomach drop realizing that her father's questions had hit all the right points – Remus _didn't_ want to marry her. She blinked away the tears that stung at her eyes but she remained still, staring up at the sky. Logically, she knew it shouldn't matter as long as they were together, but something about the thought of him never committing to her fully sent a dull ache through her chest.

They remained there in silence, and Rowan hadn't felt so far from him since that hot May afternoon when he'd left her. They were just inches apart, but it felt like miles. Would she always be forced to keep her distance from him? Would he always keep her just within reach but never let her in?

Could she let him go when the time came?

The conclusiveness of the question struck her with bitterness – it just seemed like a matter of time before he decided he'd made her wait long enough and leave. She felt guilty – ashamed even – that she automatically assumed that he was just going to leave her again, permanently this time, but no matter how she rationalized it, if he wasn't going to marry her, she knew one of them would eventually have to end it.

She suddenly felt very cold, and she braced herself mentally with a shaky breath before sitting up from the grass. She reached up to comb out a few stray blades from her hair but forced herself to not look at Remus. Standing up slowly from the grass, she reached for her shoes quietly and stared around the field and up at the night sky. It was like they were the only two people awake in their little corner of the world.

"I'm going to head back to the tent," she said quietly, though she wasn't sure if it was to herself or to Remus. When he didn't respond or make a move to go with her, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before setting a direct path for the slivers of light peaking from the white tent, choking back the tears that threatened to fall and feeling like the biggest fool in all of England.

* * *

When Remus rejoined the party about fifteen minutes after Rowan, she still couldn't bring herself to look at him, and he didn't seek her out, though she felt his gaze on her.

Luckily, all of their friends seemed too drunk or caught up in the Potters' happiness to notice the sudden rift between the pair. After another hour of forced smiles, she quietly said goodbye to the bride and groom and her parents and slipped out of the tent again, heading for the edge of the protective enchantments alone. She knew it wasn't safe during such dangerous times, but somehow, it didn't seem very important to her.

Remus didn't follow.

She fell asleep surprisingly quickly and dreamlessly, and when she woke the next day, he wasn't in bed next to her for the first time in weeks. She didn't see him again until the Order meeting the following Tuesday. She wasn't sure if she felt lonely or not.


	7. Of Being & Belonging

**A/N**: I haven't really been getting a whole lot of feedback... Is the story doing it for you?

**SOMEBODY WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Of Being and Belonging**

The next couple of weeks after James and Lily's wedding passed quietly. The two left for their honeymoon right after the wedding, and the Order was strangely quiet without them. Rowan mused that she'd have to get used to saying Lily _Potter_ now, and she was amused that it sounded even more fitting than Evans. It just proved how perfect the pair was for each other.

Remus didn't bring up their mostly one-sided conversation at the wedding again. When she finally saw him at the next meeting, she still had a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. She knew he noticed – he always noticed – but he never mentioned anything, and she couldn't be sure if she felt relieved or hurt by it. He silently held her hand as they left and returned to her apartment with her that night, but he didn't make any moves to make love to her, just touching her tentatively and gently as he did when he was trying to win her back in their Seventh Year. It all felt like a matter of time before he left her again.

Sirius and Mina seemed to have noticed the heavy silence that had fallen upon their friends and invited them out to lunch a couple of weekends after, just before James and Lily were to return from their honeymoon. Rowan felt relieved knowing that the silence would be filled with Sirius' laughter and Mina's snarky comments and looked forward to spending time with them greatly, even if it meant forcing her interactions with Remus to look somewhat normal.

The four met at the Leaky Cauldron, and they immediately fell into easy conversation. They caught up on work updates and speculated jokingly about James and Lily's honeymoon escapades. As they finished their lunches and shared butterbeers, Rowan could almost pretend that they were all at Hogwarts again and that it was just like their afternoons in Hogsmeade. Even Remus looked relaxed.

But then Sirius' face took on a slightly more serious expression, though not grave, and grasped Mina's hand in his tightly. Rowan's chest constricted slightly at the small gesture – was it envy?

"We're going to move in together next month," he said seriously, but there was a fiery glint in his eyes. Mina smiled with barely contained excitement and gazed at their hands softly. They looked happy.

Rowan forced a grin to her face before she had time to think too much about it, and they seemed to buy it. Both looking somewhat relieved. She was glad that the movement of the muscles in her face looked like they were appropriately placed, even if it felt stiff.

"That's fantastic!" she said brightly. Remus' presence next to her felt painfully heavy again. "Have you found a place yet? Where do you want to move?"

They replied happily that they had already found a flat around the Ministry and invited her to come over as soon as they'd gotten settled. She offered to help them move in, and Sirius slapped her on the shoulder hard and laughed with gratitude, and Mina looked slightly annoyed at her boyfriend's shamelessness. It all seemed so normal. Remus remained mostly quiet, however, and Rowan knew that the other two were avoiding addressing him, both aware of the heaviness in him. She still hadn't looked at him, and she couldn't be sure if he was even trying to pretend to be happy for them.

When they finally got up to leave, Rowan found it slightly hard to breathe as it meant that she'd be left alone with Remus again. The four stood outside of the pub and shared hugs before parting ways till the next meeting the following week, all eager to see the newlyweds return. As she watched them walk away, Sirius draped an arm casually around Mina's shoulders, and she snaked an arm around his waist. She was struck by how beautiful and mature they both looked. When had they grown up? She wondered if anyone ever looked at her and Remus in that way.

She forced herself to look away from the quickly disappearing couple and up at Remus, who was gazing down at her so intensely that it startled her. She realized that she hadn't actually looked at him since the wedding, and his face looked much more mature than she'd remembered. Was she the only one who looked like a child still?

His gaze softened as she stared back at him. "Finally," he whispered. His voice seemed to graze her softly, though he didn't touch her. It was warm.

Rowan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _Finally…?_

His mouth twitched slightly. "You haven't looked at me in weeks. I was beginning to think I'd become invisible to you," he breathed, and something in her chest twisted painfully. Had he been looking at her this entire time?

"I-" she started, unsure of what to say. It was true – she _hadn't_ seen him in weeks, despite being right next to him. She'd been analyzing Remus in her head without actually seeing him beside her, but now that she'd finally seen him again, she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from him. She felt incredibly guilty. "I had a lot to think about," she whispered.

He smiled sadly at her and raised a hand hesitantly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I know," he replied softly.

They stood in silence until he reached a hand out tentatively and laced her fingers with his. She looked down at their joined hands and noted how long his fingers were, how they engulfed her own. Why did she feel like such a child still when all of her friends and loved ones seemed to be aging at a different pace?

She looked back up at him, and he was still gazing at her ardently. It made her tremble slightly. "Let's go home," he said softly, squeezing her hand gently. Her mouth twitched – not quite a smile – and nodded, letting him lead her down the bustling London street. It was hot and crowded, but Rowan felt like she and Remus were once again the only two people in the world. It was still very lonely.

* * *

June passed into July, and Rowan threw herself into her work with Belby. She knew they were close to something critical, but she couldn't be sure what. She and her master worked late into the night, running tests on mice injected with lycanthrope blood, and there was a quiet singing in her blood, in her bones. They were _so close_ to something. Another few days, another few weeks, she kept telling herself. Any day now, they'd discover something critical, the right proportions or an ingredient they'd overlooked, but the days began to blur together in her mania, and she knew there was still something missing.

Despite the small understanding they seemed to have shared after lunch with Sirius and Mina, Remus and Rowan had returned to a dazed routine around each other. She no longer avoided his gaze, but it was as if there was a sad resignation that they both knew it was just a matter of time before whatever remained of their relationship fizzled away. He never brought up the topic of marriage again, and his silence on the matter served as further support that she'd never truly have him. In the nights that they didn't spend together, she would allow herself a few silent tears to mourn the life she thought she'd have but was trying desperately to force herself to let go.

_It wasn't supposed to happen like this though_, she thought to herself. Hadn't he said that he'd always love her? It wasn't an empty promise, and she still believed it – how could they both be so miserable if they still loved each other so much? Was his condition really so much of a problem, such a vital part of him, that they were destined to always be yearning for the other, but never touching? Had he always been aware of it and she'd just been too naïve to see it? Why hadn't he warned her?

But hadn't he sort of always been trying to tell her? From the very start, she'd been the one to push her feelings onto him, forcing him to be with her, forcing him to accept his own desires that he'd been burying away his entire life. But she'd pushed and pushed, and he'd relented. Did he ever resent her? Did he sometimes look at her with bitterness, knowing that she'd put them in this mess? Wasn't it really all her fault, her selfishness?

Rowan snapped out of her dark thoughts at the sound of a shrieking, "Customer! Customer!" from above Belby's lab. Someone had entered the apothecary.

"Go see what that bird is yapping about, will you?" Belby grumbled from his cauldron.

Rowan stood from her stool, sighing and rubbing her eyes blearily. She had been barely sleeping that week, and Remus had quietly scolded her the night before. As she walked up the stairs from the basement, she pulled a breath in deeply and slapped her cheeks lightly, hoping the energy from her hands would help move her face into normal expressions for the customer.

As she turned the corner from the back room, she saw Belby's Augurey Alexander peering morosely with his beady eyes at a corner of the shop, watching the customer browse through the various potions. She scratched him affectionately on the head before moving toward the man, who was hunched with grizzly gray hair and a wooden leg – it was Mad-Eye Moody.

"Alastor!" she called, feeling suddenly very bright at the sight of the older man. He was such an intimidating man, but she always felt so pleased to see him. He turned and his electric blue eye scanned over her face for a moment before smiling crookedly at her.

"Good to see you, girl. Working hard?" he asked gruffly. He looked over her face again. "Not sleeping much, I see."

She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, been really into my work recently. Master Belby and I have gotten a really good rhythm in our research," she said fervently.

He nodded approvingly and looked at her proudly. "Ever the diligent one, as always. I wish I could say the same about your mate Black," he growled. She laughed fondly.

"So what brings you here, Moody?" she asked quietly. The Aurors typically had their own potioneers brew for them specially, so it was bizarre to see the old man in the apothecary. He either needed something very specific or was there on Order business. She felt herself bristle a bit.

The Auror let out a frustrated sigh. "Crabbe and Goyle have gotten out of a conviction. They're pleading Imperius Curse," he said quietly, bitterly.

Rowan let out a shaky breath and felt anger seething in her blood. The older man shared a flicker of anger with her and continued, "They're going to be released tomorrow, so keep your eyes open. They're already suspecting that your family is involved with the Order and may start targeting you and your parents next. Kingsley and I think the hit on the Potters might have been an act of retribution for the Macdougal mission."

Rowan's felt the blood drain from her face at the thought of John Potter. Julia's disposition had improved over the past few months, especially after James and Lily's wedding, but she still hurt for the older woman. Would her parents be next?

Moody nodded gravely, as if reading her thoughts. "Be extra cautious when traveling. If you need to stay late at work, have Lupin meet you and leave with him or send for one of the other Order members. Remember: _constant vigilance!_" he whispered roughly.

Rowan's blood was boiling. She nodded her head jerkily in understanding, trying desperately to restrain herself from punching the wall. He squeezed her arm reassuringly before heading out the door, and with a faint ring, he was gone.

Mr. Potter might have been killed because James' involvement in the order. She thought of Alfred and her parents at home and felt an icy chill crawl up her spine. Should she get them into hiding? She didn't think she'd have to take such precautions so early on, but she should've realized that the Dark Lord's supporters would find out sooner, rather than later.

But she didn't have much time to think about it. Suddenly, Rowan felt a heavy pressure and looked up to see Belby standing in the doorway from the backroom staring at her with a murderous look in his eyes. She felt the blood drain from her face – how long had he been there? She heard him breathe harshly, and his eyes were wide with rage, his face shaking in the way she'd only seen when his experiments had been going poorly.

"You," he breathed shakily. "_You!_" Rowan trembled slightly at the venom in his voice.

"You're working with that _damn Order!_ I _knew_ I shouldn't have taken Dumbledore's advice about hiring you. How could I have not _known_ that he'd push for one of his underlings to work for me!" His voice continued to rise in volume as he spoke, and he face turned red with rage. He pushed past the doorway and stormed towards her. She was frozen to the spot.

He grabbed her arm roughly and thrust his face into hers, spitting slightly in anger. "You are _fired!_ I will _not_ endanger _everything _I've worked for with some- some _stupid vigilante!_" he shouted at her.

His words sank in slowly, and the icy fear she'd felt melted away into a heated anger. Her nostrils flared indignantly and she yanked her arm from his grasp.

"You can't fire me!" she shouted back. Her sudden lashing back startled him for a brief second before his anger returned, but she continued. "This is just as much _my_ work now as it is yours! Just because _you're_ too cowardly to fight doesn't mean that people aren't out there suffering! I'm staying, and I'm _not_ quitting the Order!" She was bristling with anger.

Belby roared with rage and shook her by the shoulders violently. The fear returned momentarily before she pushed her anger forward again. "You _stupid girl!_" he screamed. "Get out! GET OUT!"

Rowan pried herself from his vice grip and shoved him off of her hard so that he stumbled backward. "FINE, I'M LEAVING!" she shrieked. "But you're making a _huge_ mistake, Belby! You will _never_ find that cure without me!" His eyes were still wide with rage, and he roared again, punching the wall behind him so that the glass bottles around the shelves chimed and clinked loudly. A few fell to the ground and shattered, splattering the floor with green and brown liquids.

She pushed past him and grabbed her bag from the back room before sprinting out of the shop. Alexander squawked noisily as she slammed the door behind her. As she burst from the dark shop, various wizards and witches jumped at her violence, and she stormed through them while furiously wiping away angry tears, not looking back.

* * *

Rowan walked and walked for what seemed like hours until the sun was low in the sky. It was unbearably hot, and she was covered in a thin film of sticky sweat, but she couldn't seem to stop herself or figure out where she was going. She continued to trudge along with fatigue, her legs numb and feet aching, until she found herself on an old bridge close to Remus' apartment.

She leaned against the railing and looked out onto the river below her, which glittered with the low sun. It'd been a few weeks since she'd been there. She wasn't exactly sure why she was there to begin with – she hadn't sought him out for comfort about anything since the wedding, so why had her feet taken her there? She wasn't even sure if she wanted to see him.

The summer sun hung low and red – it must be very late. A dull ache of guilt shot through her. She hadn't told anyone where she was going, and Moody had said to be careful. The guilt was enough to convince her to pull out the key to Remus' apartment that he'd given her when he'd moved out of his parents' house. It was so normal looking, so plain, and yet just the very thought of it made her chest tighten.

The night before they'd left Hogwarts, he asked if she'd ever consider moving in with him, and when they'd moved into their respective flats, they'd traded keys without even asking. It had just seemed like the natural thing to do. They came and went from each other's places casually, and she'd even spent a few nights in his flat alone when he'd left for his monthly transformations, comforting herself in the scent of his belongings and the idea that she belonged to him as well.

But she wasn't sure anymore if it was reciprocated. Had he _ever_ belonged to her? Was there _anything_ that she could rightfully even call hers anymore? She'd even lost her job. All of her research was with Belby - could she return to the apothecary and demand for it back? It was not as if she could go through their notes and take back the information that she'd found - their notes and research were so blurred together that it'd be impossible.

Could she force him to take her back? He really had no grounds to fire her, after all, but he wasn't the kind of man who would take back anything he said in anger - he was much too proud. Despite all the work she'd done over the past two years, she had nothing to show for it. She lowered her head to the railing slowly, defeatedly. The hot tears stung at her eyes, and she let a few fall, seeping into the concrete.

After a few moments, she looked up and saw that the sun had hit the horizon - it really was late. Remus' key dug into her palm, which she had balled into a fist without realizing it. The markings of the key's teeth were red in her skin, and she thought of his fresh cuts after the night of the full moon.

For the first time in a while, she bitterly resented his condition and all that came with it. If it weren't for the damned moon and his affliction, they could be together, she wouldn't have had to work for such a terrible man, and they might also be moving in together just like Mina and Sirius. There would be no need for her to have an extra key to his apartment, and she wouldn't be standing alone on this bridge crying over Damocles Belby.

She inhaled deeply and stood up straight, looking up at the sky. The moon had appeared, faint and translucent in the evening sky. It was swelling again - Remus would be gone for a night within the coming week. She sighed again and began walking. She should go see him. After all, who knew how long she would even have that key anymore?


	8. Of Accepting One's Role

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I AM NEEDY AND REQUIRE VALIDATION!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 8: Of Accepting One's Role**

Remus stepped into the apothecary at around 6 p.m. for the first time since Rowan had begun working there. It was darker than he'd remembered. Fabian had informed him at work that Moody wanted to heighten protection for Rowan as he had his suspicions that the Delacroixs were being watched. The anxious feeling that had settled into his stomach surged up into his throat as he saw several glass bottles littered around the floor of the shop in shattered pieces.

_Where was Rowan?_

"Rowan!" he shouted, panicking. He moved quickly toward the back room.

"You're too late, boy!" a deep voice grunted out from the back stairs. Belby emerged from below with a venomous look on his face. Remus took a step back for a moment at the frightening man before moving forward again, suddenly angry.

_"__What do you mean?"_he demanded, his voice raising.

Belby barked with humorless laughter. "She's gone! I fired her this afternoon!" he said angrily. He turned to look at Remus and scanned him over critically. "_You –_you're in that damned Order as well, aren't you?" he accused.

Remus didn't answer – Belby already knew. "You fired her because she's in the Order?" he asked indignantly, eyes narrowing scathingly. "How could you do that? She's worked herself to _death _for you!" he shouted at the older man.

Belby laughed derisively again. "I don't need some wannabe vigilante _child_ in my lab! If you all want to play superhero, you can get the hell out of my shop!"

Remus was about to start into him again when Belby's eyes widened and his hand shot out, grabbing Remus by the jaw in a bruising grip.

"_What are you-" _he shouted, clawing into the man's grip.

"_Don't move, boy!_" Belby barked at him commandingly, and Remus stilled, breathing hard and glaring at the older man, wand armed in his hand.

Belby's eyes scanned over the younger man's face, and his eyes widened slowly with recognition. Remus saw the Potion Master's gaze peel over the cuts on his face and lingered on the long scar along his jaw. The blood drained from his face. He knew he'd been found out.

"It's you," Belby breathed. "You're the one," he whispered almost inaudibly. His hand released Remus' face suddenly, and he stumbled backward as if Remus had struck him.

Remus watched the man with wide eyes, fearful that he'd lash out at him, throw him out of the apothecary with accusations of fear and anger. But the man gripped the wall behind him and stared blankly at the wall above him, unseeing and unmoving.

Finally, he spoke, "Get out." His voice was so quiet that Remus thought he might have imagined it, but then Belby's eyes moved back towards his face and the anger was there again. "Get out!" he said louder.

Remus didn't need to be told again. He turned quickly and ran through the door out into the yellow sun, leaving Belby in the dark shop alone.

* * *

Remus was beginning to panic. He had gone straight to Rowan's flat as soon as he left Belby's apothecary, but it had been empty. Where could she have gone?

He suddenly felt very lonely – he hadn't really seen over the past couple of weeks, the rift between him and Rowan growing steadily. Ever since the Potters' wedding and their quiet conversation in the grass, she'd been slowly drifting away, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to pull her back to him. He didn't feel like he deserved to.

Marriage – it'd been a question in his mind since James had told him his plan to propose to Lily the previous autumn, but he'd pushed it back as best as he could until it seemed like the wedding preparations had taken over all of their lives. He'd had no choice but to consider his future with Rowan then, and when he saw Lily in her white dress, he couldn't help but imagine a certain dark-haired girl in one instead.

But he was a werewolf. His kind didn't marry, at least to normal witches and wizards. Every other werewolf he'd ever met was alone – wasn't that indication enough that he would never be able to marry Rowan, to have children with her? But even so, even knowing this, he'd stayed with her, asked her to be with him again. It was the pinnacle of selfishness, but every time he saw her speak to another man, the darkness in him would roar deafeningly, and he knew he couldn't just let her go.

But he hadn't been able to deny her sad thoughts that night, and as he saw her blink away her tears, thinking that he wasn't watching, he felt his stomach churn and wanted to fall at her feet and beg her to forgive him for all the ways he would still hurt her. She'd walked away without accusing words or even mentions of hurt, and he hated himself even more.

For weeks, she didn't look at him, and he began to fear that he might have disappeared without realizing it. She barely made an indication that she knew he was even there, and though it stung deeply, he was too afraid to reach out to her – didn't she have every right to leave him?

Yes, she did, but he knew he'd always chase her to the ends of the earth, just for a glimpse of her. Even as dim as it had been over the past weeks, her light was enough to sustain him for days. As much as he hated it, he couldn't deny the fact that he needed her, much more than she needed him, and even though he always knew deep down that he'd probably have to leave her, he didn't think the end would come so soon.

When Sirius and Mina invited them out, he was silently grateful to their friends since it meant that he'd be able to see her lively and smiling again instead of the cold, silent daze she'd taken on when they were alone. But when Sirius announced that he and Mina were moving in together, he felt the same loneliness in his chest, only magnified. He saw the momentary tenseness in Rowan's shoulders before she forced a smile to her face, and he was amazed at how convincing it had been. Even _he_ had been nearly fooled by her act and was so startled by it that he couldn't muster the effort to pretend to be happy for them as well.

Though she'd begun to acknowledge him again after that afternoon, he still felt the division between them and wondered if she was slowly letting go of him finally. He supposed she deserved to move on, to find someone who could proudly call her his, who wouldn't be afraid to give her his name, but he couldn't bring himself to do the honorable thing and break up with her. Instead, he listlessly dangled from her fingers and prayed that he could hang on a little longer.

_But where was she?_

The sun was beginning to set, and the panic settled into his bones. He felt as if he'd know by now if something had happened to her, but the fact that he couldn't find her sent a chill through him – did she just not want to see him? But really, when was the last time she'd _seen_ him? He felt incredibly lonely and wanted to be with her desperately.

He sighed dejectedly and decided to go back to his apartment – she'd come find him when she was ready.

* * *

Rowan had been in Remus' flat alone for about thirty minutes before he came home. She sat on the edge of his bed, which she felt almost guilty about – for some reason, she felt like she didn't belong there. It was strange though – Remus had left the sheets messy and undone. He was usually so neat, obsessive almost at times. She sometimes wondered how he could stand being in her space when she was so blasé about organizing her own things.

She looked around the apartment and noted that it was all messier than usual. It certainly was still much neater than hers, but there were a few shirts lying over a chair, and a couple of dirty socks were messily scattered across the floor by his bed. She almost felt like it wasn't even his place anymore. The air tasted stale.

When she heard the metal clinking of a key in the door, she jumped slightly and pulled out her wand reflexively but remained sitting. Remus opened the door quietly and immediately saw her on his bed, his eyes wide and face disbelieving. She was startled that she was there as well. It suddenly occurred to her how strange it was for her to be in his apartment when she had been avoiding it for so long.

He stood in the doorway for a moment with the door still open and stared at her dumbly, trying to determine whether or not she was actually there. She smiled weakly at him, suddenly very aware of her swollen eyes and sweaty skin, but at the slight twitching of her mouth, he slammed the door shut behind him. In an instant, he'd moved to the bed, falling to his knees in front of her and pulling her towards him roughly, burying his face in her neck. She nearly fell off with her rear perched on the very edge and let out a yelp of surprise. She flinched at the sound of her own voice.

Remus' hands clung to her, tangling in her clothes. He breathed deeply into her neck, and she worried vaguely about the thin film of sweat that she'd developed in the summer heat. He didn't seem to care though and kept his face there.

She suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. Hadn't she always held him when this had happened before? She wrapped her arms hesitantly around his shoulders, and his grip on her tightened. Slowly, it felt more and more familiar, and she suddenly didn't know why she'd felt so awkward before – it had always been this way.

Another wave of grief hit her as she realized that, despite the inevitability of losing him, still nothing had changed – she was just as madly in love with him as she'd been at fifteen, and the thought sent another surge of hot tears to her eyes. She had tried so hard for the past month to push him away, but he shattered all of her efforts with one embrace. It was infuriating, maddening. She wanted to shove him away from her and scream at him, curse him, but she knew she'd always be there waiting for him to come back to her, quietly, sadly, always.


	9. Of Honor in Bravery & Justice for All

**A/N**: Seriously, guys? **sarahmichellegellarfan1**, you're the fucking best. I'm also extremely confused as to why I haven't been getting reviews... It's kind of lonely...

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE! PLEEEEEEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Of Honor in Bravery and Justice for All**

"You all have to go into hiding," Rowan said firmly.

"Absolutely not," replied Richard Delacroix.

Rowan had gone to her parents' home the evening after Belby had sacked her to speak to them about going into hiding. As soon as she'd calmed enough to consider Moody's words to her the previous afternoon, she knew that she had to protect the older Delacroixs – how could she live with herself if something happened to them, knowing that they were in danger? She had expected them to fight her on it and came ready for a battle, but she knew she was already losing, badly.

"_Dad_," she begged, but the older man had barely even looked up from his paper to discuss it with her. Carole continued reading her book, not even acknowledging the conversation. Desperation washed over her.

"Dad_, just listen to me!" _she said, pleading. How could they be so cavalier about this? "Moody said that Voldemort's supporters already suspect us. They know I'm with the Order! I _need_ to get you into hiding! Please!"

But her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Her mother turned a page quietly, and though her father's eyebrows furrowed slightly, he made no response. Why was this happening? Had they forgotten that they were at war?

"Listen to me! These people _killed John!_" she exclaimed shrilly. "They almost murdered Julia as well! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

He slammed his newspaper down. The sudden noise startled her, but the icy daggers in his eyes sent shivers down her spine. She knew logically that he was a much more vicious man than he showed at home, always doting on her, but she had never imagined his face could take on such a frigid expression.

"Don't speak to me about John Potter," he said, deathly calm. He'd never spoken to her so coldly, and she suddenly saw a glimmer of the high-ranking Ministry official that he hid away while at home.

"But-" she started weakly.

"_Don't!"_ he shouted. His eyes softened slightly at the sight of his daughter trembling, but he maintained his hard stance. Carole closed her book calmly and looked up to look at Rowan seriously. "How can you? How can you expect me to go into hiding like some- some _coward_?" he spat.

Rowan froze, suddenly ashamed. Even her parents were willing to fight, even though they were old and frail. Was she the only Order member who was afraid?

"I will not run and hide from the bastards who _murdered_ my oldest friend. _I will not!_" he shouted. Carole had closed her eyes calmly but sat straight in her chair. Rowan was struck by how regal both of her parents looked. She felt extremely shabby and cowardly in comparison.

"But Dad," she whimpered, "I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you because of me! Please!" She inwardly beat herself for sounding so weak. _Damn it!_ She felt stinging in her eyes and blinked them away furiously. She would _not_ cry in front of her parents like this! When had she become so weak, so pathetic? Hadn't she been prepared for this?

"Rowan," her mother finally spoke, opening her eyes to look fiercely at her daughter. She had never seen so much fire in the older woman. Why hadn't she inherited her courage as well as her intellect?

"We know," she said gravely. "We know you worry, but if you're going to keep fighting, then we're staying.

"We're old," she continued, softly. "We can't fight the way we used to, but we've already lived our lives and made our peace with our choices. We're staying," she finished firmly. Richard gazed fiercely at Carole with a burning pride, and Rowan thought of the way James looked at Lily.

"She's right. Besides," he added gruffly, "I'll never be able to face John in the afterlife if I go into hiding now. That old bastard would never let me live it down."

He grinned roguishly at her. She stared blankly back - had she really lost so quickly? It was as if he'd fast forwarded through their entire argument, and she was lagging behind. She couldn't even work up the effort to understand how their conversation had ended so decisively without so much as a battle from her. She suddenly felt very overwhelmed. Her mother smiled and stood from her chair, sighing.

"Well, it's getting late. Better go save Remus from Alfred before that man-eater decides to make him his new plaything," she said wryly. Rowan stood as well in a daze, saying goodbye to her father confusedly. As she walked out of the drawing room with her mother, she glanced above the doorway at the sight of the Delacroix coat of arms. Across the top it read, "_Honor in Bravery and Justice for All_." Her chest twisted painfully. She couldn't be sure if she should feel proud or afraid.

* * *

When Rowan entered the kitchen, Remus and Alfred were seated at the table laughing. Alfred was relaying an amusing story from Rowan's childhood, and Remus leaned forward on his elbows eagerly, a grin plastered on his face.

"What're you telling him now, you old tart?" her mother asked smartly.

Alfred looked up and grinned at her. "Oh, nothing important," he replied cheekily, "I was just telling young Master Lupin here about little Winnie's tantrum when she was seven and you told her that she couldn't wear boys' trousers to your cousin Louis' wedding." He grinned at Rowan. "Such a little tomboy you were," he sighed dramatically, as if reminiscing.

Rowan glared at him then looked to Remus. He couldn't read the expression on her face – had she been able to convince her parents to go into hiding or not?

"Time to go," she said to him, and he nodded.

The nonchalant look on Carole's face said that Rowan hadn't been successful, but she looked strangely comfortable for a woman whose daughter had just told her she was in mortal danger. He still couldn't understand this family.

"Be sure to come back soon, dears. Bring James and Lily along as well. I still have to give them their wedding present," she said, following them down the hall to the door.

Remus worked up the courage to ask the obvious question. "I take it you're staying then?" Remus said slowly, glancing at Rowan, who was frowning slightly.

Carole smiled. "Yes, we're old, but we're no cowards. Besides, what kind of Gryffindor runs in the middle of battle?" she said smartly. Remus smiled fondly at the older woman. The more he got to know her, the more he realized from where Rowan inherited her spark, though the younger woman's face held a grimace at her mother's words.

They waved goodbye to Mrs. Delacroix and Alfred and stepped out into the warm night. He was startled to feel Rowan's fingers grasp his own hesitantly. He looked down at her, confused, and she looked up shyly. She blushed in a way that he hadn't seen since their Hogwarts days, and he couldn't help the smile that broke across his face. He gripped her hand tightly and Disapparated back to London.

* * *

"You have to go back to Belby," Remus said quietly.

He and Rowan were lying in his bed together face to face, both bare. They'd made love to each other for the first time in weeks, and Rowan was struck by how incomplete she felt. Remus had been gentler than ever, but as she looked at him in the white glow from the window, she couldn't help but feel a small hint of dread bloom in her stomach again. She was still in love with him, painfully so, and it was making it all the harder to let go of him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

He smiled gently and reached up to brush some hair from her face. Her eyes closed instinctively. It was too warm, too much. Her chest hurt.

She opened her eyes as he answered, "You can't let it end here. You have to go back."

Her lip quivered. "But he doesn't want me there, and isn't he right? I'd be endangering everything he's been working for. He's not like my parents – he doesn't want to fight. I can't force that on him," she whispered sadly.

He smiled thinly. "Yeah, but he can't do it without you. And you've come so far already. How can you give up now?"

She couldn't stop the trembling of her chin, and a couple of tears escaped. He reached up and wiped them away before pulling her into his chest. He was so warm. It engulfed her, overwhelming.

How was it that he always knew what she needed, except when it came to himself? It was unfair, cruel even. She knew he was right – she had to go back to Belby – but the thought of confronting the Potions Master made her breath run short. She wanted to go back, but how would she ever convince him to change his mind?

Remus ran his hands slowly through her hair as she fell asleep. Her mind was a haze of memories of shouting, and she couldn't differentiate her father's voice from Belby's. She dreamt of broken glass and roaring lions.

* * *

Rowan stood outside of the apothecary two days later wringing her hands nervously. She stared at the door with a sickening churning in her stomach. The last time she'd felt so overwhelmingly nervous was right before she took her Potions N.E.W.T. She hadn't been able to eat breakfast out of fear that she'd throw it up, but even still, her innards felt like they were turning inside out.

Remus had convinced her to return to Belby's shop, but now that she was there, she didn't know if she could even enter. From the outside, it didn't appear any different from when she'd left. Had it all just been a terrible dream? She almost imagined him sitting in the lab waiting for her.

She took a shaky breath and straightened herself resolutely, moving towards the door and entering the shop. She hoped the trembling in her hands would stop.

* * *

Rowan had entered the basement lab with a nod to Alexander, who had eyed her cautiously but didn't announce her arrival. She was grateful for it – the squawking would have rattled her already delicate nerves. But as she moved down the stairs to the basement, stepping loudly enough to allow Belby proper notice, the older man had dropped his notes and glared venomously at her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" growled Belby.

She froze for a moment mid-stair but gathered up her courage and rushed down the rest before she could lose her nerve.

"I'm here to work," she declared fiercely, squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up. She hoped that she looked taller.

"Like hell you are! Unless you quit that damn Order, then you're not welcome here!" he said, turning back to the books on his table.

Rowan's nostrils flared defiantly. "I'm not quitting at the Order, nor am I quitting as your apprentice. I'm here to stay, and there's nothing you can do about it!" she said, though she didn't feel nearly as confident as she sounded. She prayed that he didn't notice the shaking in her legs.

He slammed his fist on the table in anger. The sound made her jump slightly. He roared, "_You stupid girl!_ Arrogant, selfish! Do you know how long I've been working on this cure? You were still _in diapers_ when I started this! I will not risk _everything_ for your stupidity!"

She trembled but drew herself up again. She _was_ being selfish – he was right and the guilt ate at her – but this was it.

"I don't care! I told you I'm going to help you find that cure, and _you can't stop me!"_ she shouted back.

He roared in frustration and threw a giant book at the wall, and she jumped at the sudden violence. It crumpled to the ground, spine broken and pages spilling out in a mess of tears and creases.

"_Stop you? _STOP YOU?" he roared. "This is MY laboratory and I want you GONE!" She could see a vein throb in his red forehead. It looked as if blood might burst from his eyes.

"NO!" she screamed back. "You WILL take me back, even if I have to _fight you!"_

He screamed in frustration and pushed her so violently that she lost her balance and fell to the ground painfully. Terror seized her – was he going to attack her? She groped for her wand, but just as she'd pointed it up to defend herself, he'd already begun stomping up the stairs. She heard loud thundering of feet and then a slam of the door. He was suddenly gone.

Her head pounded with the deafening sound of her own heart. The silence was loud, and she listened hard with bated breath, expecting him to come storming back in, perhaps with Ministry officials. But he didn't return.

She looked about her, suddenly aware of her surroundings. Nothing had changed since she'd left a few days prior, even her own workspace. She'd expected the cauldrons and test tubes to be gone or broken, but they looked exactly as she'd left them – had he known all along that she'd come back?

The feeling in Rowan's limbs faintly returned. She noted that she hadn't felt them at all since Belby had thrown her to the side as he stormed out. She also felt a slight ache at her hip – she'd have a bruise there soon.

The book Belby had thrown was still in a heap on the ground. Rowan pulled herself up and forward and crawled toward it slowly. She recognized it as one she'd found at the London Wizarding Library a few months prior. The Potions Master had been pleased with her find and had even given her a few rare words of praise. A slight warmth spread through her chest at the memory.

"_Reparo,"_ she whispered, waving her wand over the book. The pages slithered back into the bindings as the spine twitched and straightened back out. She gathered it up gingerly and stood slowly, placing it back on the table. She moved to the notes Belby had been looking over and saw that he'd made some progress since she'd left. Her eyes scanned through the detailed schedule he'd laid out for himself, memorizing the agenda quickly before turning back to her work station – even if he'd left, she'd come back to work, and she was determined to have as much done as possible by the time he returned.

* * *

Remus entered the apothecary again at 6 p.m. and looked around for Rowan.

"Customer! Customer!" cried Alexander, and he cringed at the bird's shrill voice. He heard shuffling from the basement.

"Rowan?" he called cautiously.

"Who's there? Remus?" he heard her call up. "I'll be up in a second!"

He felt himself release the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She sounded much better than she had in the morning, and the fact that he wasn't already being shouted at by the rough Potions Master was a good sign that things had gone well. He couldn't help but smile as she appeared from the stairwell.

She smiled back and ran into his arms happily. He hadn't seen her looking so pleased in months. His smile stretched into a grin, and he squeezed her tightly.

"So everything went okay then?" he asked hopefully as she pulled away.

Her face scrunched up, and he was suddenly confused. "Well, not exactly," she said slowly. He frowned. "He yelled at me and then stormed out this morning. I haven't seen him since."

His frown deepened. "Why are you so happy then?" he asked. This was ludicrous.

She laughed brightly. The sound was precious. "I don't know!" she exclaimed brightly. He was flummoxed. "But I've been working all day, and I have a good feeling," she said. Her arms were still around his waist, and she squeezed him lightly again.

Remus' frown remained, but for some reason, he trusted her strange optimism and nodded slowly. "Okay… Well, are you ready to go home then or do you want me to come back later?" he asked carefully.

She shook her head jerkily. "No, I'm going to work through the night here. I have a lot to catch up on from the past few days, and I want to make sure I'm here when he returns," she said quickly.

Remus took in her words, and though the thought of leaving her there alone all night disturbed him slightly, he melted at the determined look on her face. He knew he couldn't say no to her.

"Okay, but will you send me a Patronus in the morning before I leave for work so that I know you're all right? And you have to promise to let me know if you decide to leave sometime in the night, so I can come get you," he said sternly.

She nodded fervently and rose up on her toes to kiss him softly. His hands shot to her face reflexively and deepened it. She hadn't kissed him in such a way in ages, and he wanted to savor it as long as possible.

When she pulled away, a light pink dusted her cheeks, and he had to smile at her sudden shyness.

"Alright, get back to work. Let me know if anything happens, okay?" he said quietly. She nodded and smiled softly.

"I love you, Remus," she whispered.

Her sudden declaration startled him, but her earnestness shot a flare of heat through him. He beamed at her and leaned down to kiss her again. He thought his heart might explode.


	10. Of Intimacy through Pain

**A/N**: Things start getting dark from here.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 10: Of Intimacy through Pain**

Remus stood in the kappa sanctuary at the ICE, scribbling some notes into his notebook when Fabian Prewett appeared beside him.

"Lupin, my boy! How are you today?" his voice boomed. Remus jumped and the sudden noise, and the kappa he'd been observing dropped the cucumber Remus had lured him out with and scurried away, diving back into the water.

Remus sighed as he saw the creature disappear but then turned back to his boss. "Doing well – making some good progress today. How are you?" he replied calmly, steadying his heart rate from the initial shock of the older man's abrupt appearance.

"Good, good!" he responded jovially. "Me, I've been feeling a bit antsy today – decided to take a walk and check on all of you."

He then glanced around him discreetly and lowered his voice. "How was your monthly the other night?" he asked quietly.

Remus smiled warmly at the older man's concern. "It was good," he replied. "No new scratches for the first time in a while. Rowan was very pleased."

Fabian beamed. "You've got a good one there. Damn sharp she is," he said fiercely. Remus couldn't help but nod in agreement.

After he'd gone to see her at the apothecary upon her first day back, she'd stayed the entire night. As he was dressing for work the next morning, the door to his apartment opened, and she stumbled in half asleep. Belby had returned to the lab that morning as if nothing had happened, though he'd shoved her out of the shop and told her to get some sleep and return the next day. He hadn't seen her look so happy in months, though they both were dying to know what had happened to make Belby change his mind.

She'd slept into the afternoon there, and he returned in the evening before leaving for his monthly transformation to see her. She greeted him happily and kissed him goodbye as he left, and somehow, everything seemed very normal. He thought sadly that it was if they were a married couple and then berated himself for even imagining it – no matter how wonderful it seemed, he couldn't get his hopes up for long.

As he thought about the gentle way she'd tucked him into bed upon his return home the next morning, a silvery haze burst through the wall, earning a few gasps and shouts from his coworkers. He felt a surge of dread shoot through him as it approached him. It solidified into an owl in front of him and Fabian.

"_Your mother has collapsed. We're at St. Mungo's. Please don't panic, but come as soon as you get out of work. See you soon_," Lyall's voice echoed from it softly before the bird stretched its wings and dissolved into the air.

Remus felt the air in his lungs shrivel up, and the blood drained from his face. A strong hand grabbed his arm. He looked over to see Fabian looking at him fiercely.

"I'll send word to Rowan. Go see your mother," he said quietly but sternly. Remus felt himself nodding before he could even think and grasped Fabian's hand with gratitude before turning and running out the door. As soon as he hit the pavement outside, he Disapparated for St. Mungo's.

* * *

Rowan sped through the halls of the hospital searching for the waiting room. She'd already been to two, neither of which had been the right ones apparently, and she was beginning to grow flustered. Why was this place such a damn maze?

She sped past a bright room and had to stop and turn back when she realized she'd missed it in her loud internal rant. Remus and Lyall were sitting there, both looking haggard and distressed. Lyall looked up and saw her, standing to his feet first.

"Rowan," he breathed, grasping her shoulder. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," she said softly. "Is she okay? What's happened?" She forced the panic down. They didn't need to deal with a hysterical woman on top of everything else.

Remus had stood after his father. "Stroke," he choked out, moving towards her. His father let her go, and she rushed towards him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He buried his face in her neck and breathed deeply, shakily. She felt him tremble and had to push back her fear again.

When he pulled away, Lyall continued. "Healers say it was stress. Apparently there's been an increase in them as the war has gotten worse. She should be okay, but we don't know how it'll affect her yet. She's still in intensive care," he explained quietly.

Rowan nodded gravely and sat down with Remus. Lyall excused himself to get some fresh air. She laced her fingers with the young man's and squeezed his hand.

She wasn't sure what to say, so she didn't say anything at all. He wasn't a man who appreciated flowery words, and she felt like it'd be inappropriate and dishonest to tell him it would all be okay. She leaned her head against his shoulder and hoped that her warmth might reach him and prayed that they wouldn't lose yet another loved one to the dark days they were in.

* * *

Leanna Lupin remained delicate after her stroke but had recovered just enough to speak and sit up to see visitors, though not many as it tired her out quickly. The incident had cost her control over her left arm, and Rowan could still see her sometimes look at it mournfully. Her eyebrows would sometimes furrow with concentration, and she knew the older woman was trying desperately to move it, even slightly. It broke her heart to see the once lively woman so restrained.

She'd also begun having trouble remembering certain things, though they tended to be small. The most painful part was seeing the frustration on her face as she realized that she'd forgotten something else. Her face would screw up as she scoured her mind for the memories. She said it was as if they were just within reach, but for some reason, she couldn't grasp them. Rowan hoped that it wouldn't spread to more critical memories.

It was September, and the leaves on the trees outside had just begun to turn yellow. There was a large oak tree outside of Leanna's hospital room window, and the two women had taken to opening up the window to let the still warm breeze and a few golden leaves come in as they sat together during Rowan's visits. Rowan had even brought her mother a couple of times. They'd met on a couple of occasions before, but now the two older women seemed to share a dark understanding – both knew the agony of losing the bodies they'd always known, and though it pained her with guilt, a part of Rowan was extremely pleased that they could share such a deep intimacy so quickly.

Rowan had begun working again at the apothecary, and her research with Belby had been speeding along. She felt a frenetic energy in the laboratory and knew they were so _close_ to a breakthrough. After he'd returned from his strange disappearance the day she'd come back, he made no mention of their fight or that he'd fired her at all. He simply told her to shove off for the rest of the day - that she was no use to him tired - and to come back the next day. It was almost frightening how nonchalant he was about it all, but she figured it was best not to question his good graces when he offered them so readily. After all, she had her job back, and wasn't that what mattered?

The mania she'd felt that day alone in the lab had bled into the days after, and she swore it had been rubbing off on her master as well, though he'd never admit to it. She still didn't really know anything about him, but she liked to think she understood him better than anyone else that came into the shop, and the thought pleased her greatly.

Her parents had remained safe, and though the anxiety of knowing that they were being watched remained in the pit of her stomach, she tried to remain optimistic. Her missions for the Order had been proceeding well, despite the increase of Death Eater activity. She and Remus had even had a couple together, much to his relief, and her dueling rhythm with Arthur had improved as well.

It hadn't been all smooth though - at the end of August, they lost Fritz Longbottom to a Death Eater ambush, and his murder had hit them all hard, particularly Frank, Fritz's younger brother who had been a year ahead of her and Remus at Hogwarts. As she pulled out her black robes for another funeral, she prayed silently to herself that there wouldn't be another for a while. She thought of her parents and her friends and imagined that if she kept their faces engrained in her mind, they would remain safe.

* * *

Not all days were dark, however. One Saturday afternoon, Rowan sat next to Leanna, reading her the Muggle newspaper. The sun was bright and yellow and spilled into the room warmly, and she imagined whimsically that the golden leaves that floated in were sheets of sunlight. She had to stop reading several times to ask the older woman what various words were, such as "telephone" and "electrical circuit," and they both laughed brightly at her comical ignorance of common Muggle concepts. Rowan felt such a strong affection for her boyfriend's mother and desperately pushed away the thought that was creeping into her mind – would she ever be able to call her _Mother _as well?

As if reading her thoughts, Leanna asked, "How are you and Remus, dear?"

Rowan looked up with furrowed brows. Was it simply a mother's intuition to know when her child and his friends were troubled? Leanna was smiling patiently at her, and Rowan noted how similar the tired lines beneath her eyes were to Remus'.

"Hasn't Remus told you?" she asked, trying to sound light.

Leanna snorted slightly. "You and I both know he doesn't tell me anything about your relationship. Have you forgotten our brief correspondence a few summers ago?"

Rowan grimaced slightly at the memory – Leanna had owled her during the summer between their Sixth and Seventh Year asking what had happened between her and Remus as he'd withdrawn into himself completely. He still didn't know about their exchange. Her fists balled up tightly.

"I-" she started. "I don't know, honestly," she said. She didn't understand how she could open up to this woman so easily when she couldn't admit her reservations about her relationship to even Remus or her own mother. It irked her.

Leanna smiled sadly. "I thought so. What has he done now?"

Rowan frowned and looked down at her hands, forcing them open, though they still looked tense. "He hasn't done anything," she said honestly. "It's just that…" she trailed off. How was she supposed to explain this? "James and Lily got married," she said dumbly.

Leanna nodded knowingly. "And you don't think Remus wants to marry you," she completed.

Rowan felt her shoulders slump and her heart sink into her stomach. She hadn't been able to voice her fears out loud since her father had told her his concerns, and physically hearing the words put into the atmosphere made them feel inevitable now. Her lip quivered sadly.

A hand covered her own and she looked up to see Leanna gazing softly at her. "I can't tell you that Remus will ever come around," she said sadly, "But he loves you more than anything. You must know that, right?"

Rowan looked down again and nodded, though she couldn't quite make herself fully believe it. Their relationship had improved slightly when she'd returned back to work, but after Leanna had fallen ill, he had withdrawn back into himself. Rowan knew he was obsessing over his mother's stroke, thinking that the stress of his involvement in the war had driven her to it, and Rowan didn't know how to console him.

The growing rift between them continued to expand, and he seemed to be engulfed in a far off darkness that she couldn't reach. The fear whispered from the back of her mind. It had engraved itself into her heart, dug into her bones. She sometimes woke in the middle of the night to see him asleep next to her, and she would pull away from his embrace. She was afraid that if she touched him, the illusion of their relationship would shatter, and though she knew it was just a matter of time, she wanted to cling to him just a little longer.

But he had also begun to push _her_ away. Before he simply seemed to accept the distance she'd set between them but always stayed nearby. Now, he had started increasing that distance. She thought she'd be ready for it, but to see him slowly moving away from her was more painful than she'd imagined. She felt like she was sixteen again, sitting alone on the Hogwarts grounds in the hot sun.

Just as Leanna was about to say something else, the door opened, and Rowan's head jerked up to see Remus standing in the doorway. His face fell slightly as he saw the serious looks on Rowan and his mother. Her stomach lurched slightly at the sight of him.

"What's going on?" he asked concernedly, moving toward the bed.

Rowan shook her head and forced a smile. "Nothing, just talking about a sad story in the Muggle paper," she lied.

Remus shot her a mild look that said that he knew she wasn't telling the truth, but he didn't push it. He turned to Leanna and asked softly, "How are you feeling today?"

Leanna smiled and responded, "Just fine, dear. How's your day been?"

The three got to talking casually, and by the time Lyall arrived, Rowan was glad to see that Remus had forgotten all about the serious conversation he'd walked in on. When the pair left his parents to return to his apartment, it was quite late, and the two made their way for the exit. The small distance between them felt profound, and as they Disapparated, he didn't reach out to hold her hand.


	11. Of Green Flames & Sacrifice

**A/N**: This is an intense chapter, but I really enjoyed writing it. Shit gets dark though.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 11: Of Green Flames and Sacrifice**

It was surprisingly chilly for an early October night. Rowan shivered a little in the dark.

She had been assigned again to a protection mission. Lily, Remus, Peter, and Mina had been put on the lookout team that night at the safehouse the Order had arranged for the Bones family, and James had been overcome with enthusiasm about getting to be on the more "exciting" team, much to Lily's exasperation. Remus had been furious at his placement on the lookout team and wanted to trade roles with Rowan, but Dumbledore had been resolute. It had taken long hours of Rowan's assurances that she'd be fine to make Remus relent.

Dorcas Meadowes, an older jovial woman with a round rosy face, and Rowan were standing guard by the doorway of the Bones residence, both with wands drawn at the ready. Wizengamot member Edgar Bones and his family had been threatened by the Death Eaters after he'd sentenced a group of them to a lifetime in Azkaban. It had been a bold move – many of the men he'd sentenced were influential figures, and there would no doubt be serious grudges held against him for it.

The Bones family was illustrious and renowned for their keen sense of justice, and Rowan was proud to say that she was a comrade of both Edgar and his sister Susan. When Moody had reported that they were under heavy watch by the Dark Lord's followers, the Order had moved immediately to get them into hiding, and she was determined to get them there safely.

The Boneses had two small children, which made the transportation mission more difficult since Polyjuice Potion couldn't be safely taken by individuals so young without risking some dangerous effects. They had determined that the best choice was to wrap the young ones in James' Invisibility Cloak and then Sirius would transport them separately in the sidecar of his flying motorcycle. It was disturbingly loud, but it was the only way they could move them without certainly being caught, and if they were attacked, he'd be able to get away the easiest. The plan was for him to set out first and stop at various safehouses along the way. Rowan hoped the children wouldn't get scared and cry, giving away their position. He left with the children before the sun had set, and as they watched him drive off alone, Edgar and his wife Wisteria held each other tightly.

The remaining couple was given Polyjuice Potion, transforming them into Emmeline Vance and Mundungus Fletcher, who were both stationed at their final destination. Everyone wore black robes to help disguise themselves in the night, and Rowan thought darkly that they resembled Death Eaters.

Rowan had a terrible feeling about the mission and kept finding various holes in it. Though spies watching the Apparition, Floo, and Portkey networks would be looking for the Boneses and not Emmeline or Mundungus, she still felt a sickening dread spread through her stomach. Surely, the Death Eaters weren't so shortsighted to let a group of suspected Order members pass through a Portkey without attacking.

James, the Prewett brothers, Frank Longbottom, and Wisteria Bones head out for the first Portkey as the sun began to set. Rowan watched the older woman grip her husband's hand tightly before leaving nervously with the group. Perhaps it was because they looked like Emmeline and Mundungus, but for some reason, none of it seemed right. The anxiety spread through her limbs.

Rowan, Dorcas Meadowes, Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody, and Edgar head out just after the sky had turned dark for the second Portkey. They moved swiftly and silently through the streets of London until they reached a dark dock. Ducking below a small bridge, they moved into a dark corner to find an old leather boot. Rowan was barely breathing. As they gathered around it, Moody pulled out his pocket watch. He held a gnarled hand up and gestured, counting down.

5-4-3-2-and

The group grabbed onto the boot together as the minute hand hit 8 p.m., and they were sucked into the void.

Her vision twisted sickeningly, and it was if the volume of the world went mute. But as her hearing came rushing back like an opened vacuum, she realized that something was terribly wrong.

Just as Rowan regained her feet, she heard screaming and blinding flashes of light all around her. She instinctively grabbed Edgar and pulled him downward just in time as a green beam of light shot over their heads.

"Someone betrayed us!" she heard an angry shout. Moody was shooting hexes around him wildly though accurately, hitting a few Death Eaters with red beams. He pointed his wand into the air and shot a blast of yellow sparks up into the sky, which exploded loudly and brightly. It illuminated the field, and Rowan counted nearly fifteen glimmering masks around them. Terror seized her body, and she felt as if her spine had frozen rigid.

"We have to move!" Arthur screamed over the mayhem, and he grabbed Edgar, pulling him towards the woods in the distance. Rowan followed but kept her back to the retreating group so that she could defend them from the still attacking Death Eaters. As they moved though, she realized that Dorcas had remained behind.

"Dorcas!" she shouted at the older woman. She was fighting viciously with a trio of Death Eaters and flailed an arm at her to keep going, but the thought of leaving her behind constricted her throat. Dorcas was fighting valiantly and had taken down two Death Eaters with a blast of fire from her wand. Just as Rowan was about to throw a hex at one of her comrade's attackers though, a green light hit the woman from behind.

"NO!" Rowan screamed. Dorcas' eyes were wide and blank as she collapsed to the ground in a heap. Rowan instinctively made a move to run to her body, but she realized that the other Death Eaters were closing in on them and held herself back, half-blinded by the hot tears that had risen to her eyes.

"Rowan, leave her!" she heard someone shout behind her, and she reluctantly continued on.

They miraculously made it into the forest, which offered them some cover but also hindered them as they had to watch their step as they moved through the dense trees and darkness. Rowan panted with exertion as they sprinted through the dark woods, the sound of cackling Death Eaters from behind them urging her onward. Their terrible voices echoed in her ears.

Finally, Rowan saw a glimmer of light and knew that it was a sign that the safehouse was close. They had to hold the Death Eaters off long enough to get Edgar and Wisteria into the safehouse and set up the protective enchantments before it was too late. She saw Arthur turn around and face off against the Death Eaters. Moody did the same.

"Rowan, you have to get Edgar to the safehouse now! We'll do our best to hold them off!" Arthur shouted, throwing hexes into the woods. A distant grunt told them that he'd hit one.

Rowan felt the terror in her blood again but ran forward and grabbed Edgar by the wrist, sprinting further into the woods and looking for the next sign for the safehouse. Just as they approached the last dash, she saw Frank Longbottom running with Wisteria toward them. Wisteria was struggling to keep up.

"Rowan!" he called. "There are about three on our tail! I'll hold them off, but you have to take them and go!" He pushed the older woman into Rowan's arms and then ran back to continue fighting.

The reunited couple embraced tightly, and Rowan could see that Wisteria was about to break down.

"Come on, we have to move!" she bit out impatiently and grabbed the woman's hand to keep running. Edgar followed close behind, throwing a few hexes behind him at the approaching Death Eaters.

Her face and lungs were searing, burning with heat, but she had to keep going. They were so close, and Rowan could see a light in the distance meaning that the house was close. They ran and ran, breathing ragged. Her legs ached, but she kept pushing. Just as they reached the clearing she shoved the Boneses forward.

"_Go! You have to get inside the house!"_ she screamed before turning to face the approaching footsteps. She could hear Remus' voice calling to them and saw Mina from the corner of her eye running towards the couple just before she turned. But just as she had raised her wand to fight the last of their pursuers, there was an explosion of blinding green light from behind her, and she felt herself soaring through the air.

The world twisted around her, and she vaguely heard Remus shouting her name. It all sounded so far away. She wasn't sure what was up or down.

She hit the ground on her left side with a sickening crunch and felt her head bounce against the dirt painfully. She was skidding. There was dirt caked onto her, in her skin. She felt a burning sensation on her right shoulder, but she couldn't find her voice. It burned, but not like the cold fire from the year before. It was hot and searing and green. She wanted to scream, but all she could hear was the pounding of feet running towards her. It sounded so dull. The world turned and flipped around her. Her lungs were in her throat, and she couldn't find control of her eyes, which were rolling wildly.

All she could see was green.


	12. Of a Coward's Despair

**A/N**: Blahhhh why is Peter so difficult to write about? I hope this gives a little insight into where I'm going with him.

**missalex3030:** Thank you so much for reviewing! And not at all! I love the longer reviews. It really touches me when people take the time to comment on the specific things they enjoy or don't find convincing, as it helps me understand what I'm doing well and can improve on. I really appreciate how thoughtful your messages are. Thank you so much again!

**dearmaggie:** Thank you SO MUCH for the constructive criticism. You really hit a lot of points I'd been concerned about, and it's helped me reconsider some things. I was also worried about the heaviness of the story so I took your advice and quickly penned out a lighter chapter to see how it felt, and it really elevated it all, despite my initial worries about it coming across as filler. Also, Peter is a character that I find really difficult to approach but is totally necessary - you're definitely right. This chapter is coincidentally the start of my touching upon his story, but I really have a hard time fleshing him out. Why is he so difficult to write about? Ugh, anyway, let me know how you receive my interpretation of him b/c I am SCURRED.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Of a Coward's Despair**

Peter Pettigrew was not a brave man, and he was painfully aware of it. For years, he had despaired over his placement in Gryffindor when all of his mates and peers seemed to belong there. His parents had both been in Hufflepuff and he'd accepted that he would also be placed there, but as he stood in the Great Hall on that first day at Hogwarts, he was struck by the enormity of the castle and the magnetic whispers coming from a trio of his dark-haired peers. When he saw the handsome Sirius Black and pretty Rowan Delacroix placed into Gryffindor, he found himself dazedly wishing to also join that table of cheering students. They were so much livelier, so much more glamorous than the house next to them, and before he knew it, the Sorting Hat had announced to the Great Hall that he would be joining them.

He had been horrified to say the least that the hat had read his most inner desires, but as he took a seat next to Sirius Black and saw the bright smile of the dark-haired girl across from him, he knew he'd never been happier.

But as they'd grown, his three mates seemed to surpass him at every feat. They were all handsome, tall and popular, and he felt increasingly shabby next to them, round and plain. He was certainly no scholar nor an athlete, and though he did well in school, he knew it was due greatly to Remus Lupin's tutoring and assistance. Even his Animagus form was unimpressive.

He wasn't a bitter man, however. He knew his place would always be to support his more impressive friends, and as he watched them each move on to pursue great careers and relationships with the most beautiful girls in their year, he felt no spite or anger, just longing.

Peter didn't join the Order of the Phoenix because he was filled with any righteous indignation or belief in a cause. He joined for the same reasons he joined anything - his mates did. But for the year and a half that he'd been with the Order, he berated himself for being too afraid to just walk away, to know his own limitations. His friends wouldn't think any less of him, and it would give his poor mother one less thing to worry about, but for some reason, every time he opened his mouth at an Order meeting to announce his decision to quit, his throat ran dry.

But as he sat by the hospital bedside of Rowan Delacroix, the terror that had floated in the back of his mind for so long suddenly became very real.

It had been two days since their terrible mission with the Bones family, and he had woken each night since with cold sweats and terror in his bones at the memories of the green flames. He still saw Rowan thrashing on the ground, and the smell of charred skin met his nose. Her screams had knocked the breath out of his lungs. They were disembodied, otherworldly, and as he saw Remus run forward, his voice shouting out every protective spell he could think of, the world around him seemed to suck into a void. He barely remembered anything else after that.

He gazed at the young woman in front of him and was sickened again at how disgusted and afraid he was. He had seen her arm and shoulder when they finally put the flames out. Her skin had been raw and red, and he saw where her robes had been cooked into her very flesh. He had vomited into the grass at the smell and sight of the burning skin with great shame and felt extremely helpless as he watched Remus and Lily Disapparate for St. Mungo's with her limp body. After they had gone, he pathetically watched the other members of the protection teams emerge from the woods and couldn't find his voice. Mina had been the one to tell them what had happened - he had been too afraid to speak.

Rowan's arm was now bandaged in clean white gauze, and he felt grateful that he could no longer see the screaming red burns. The room was painfully white, and he felt dirty sitting in it. It had taken all of his courage to even come to see her, and he was thankful that she was asleep - he wasn't sure how he'd be able to face her after all that had happened if she'd been awake.

Even injured though, she was very beautiful, he noted. He had caught himself several times looking at his mates' girlfriends over the years with awe and often wondered what it would be like to make love to such a beautiful woman. Lily was almost ethereal with her thick red hair and pale skin, but Mina, in particular, was extremely attractive to him, with her graceful gestures and sultry voice. She was quietly powerful, and he marveled at the impressive spectacle that she was, standing next to the darkly handsome Sirius. She sometimes frightened him with the intensity of her gaze and quiet conviction.

But Rowan held a different place in his heart. She had always been the most aware of him, whereas the other two women had often just included him because of his association with the other three Marauders, though he didn't take it personally. Rowan was like a bouncing spark in the darkness of battle and getting to know her was almost like getting to know James, just through her mannerisms and stories. He was surprisingly comforted by her silly anecdotes and easy countenance with great pleasure and was always filled with warmth under her kind gaze. He thought that it made perfect sense for someone like her to be with someone like Remus, who was gentle and kind and intelligent. When he saw them together, he was filled with a vague envy that he might never find that kind of love.

Peter sat quietly in the white room with her and gazed at her face with guilt. She was so still. It was frightening. She should be moving, turning about the room with her usual whimsy. He always associated her with cheeky laughter, and the pained expression on her face - even asleep - was deeply unsettling.

His chest constricted painfully. He had barely been a participant in the war, taking on the less dangerous roles and allowing his friends to fight the big battles for him. Rowan had always charged into battle without hesitation, and now her arm would never be the same. Would she keep fighting after this? Could _he_ keep fighting after this? He felt the nausea hit him again.

He wanted more than anything to run and hide. His throat clenched painfully and he bowed his head with shame. How could he even _think_ of running? He knew somehow that Rowan wouldn't quit, even after this, and he was sickened by his own cowardice. His hands trembled as the green fire and Rowan's screaming flashed through his mind's eye again. He had to choke back the sob that threatened to burst through - he wanted to run!

Suddenly, he heard movement and jerked up, straightening his face in time to see Remus enter the room. Remus' face contorted angrily at the sight of him for a moment before awkwardly straightening back out. Peter trembled - could Remus hear all of the shameful thoughts in his head? He felt his stomach lurch at the idea. Would he look down on him if he knew how much of a coward he was?

"Wormy," he said curtly, "What're you doing here?"

Peter flinched at the cold tone of his voice. _Wormy - _he'd never considered how appropriate his nickname was. He truly was a worm, spineless, useless. It suddenly seemed very fitting.

"I wanted to see Rowan," he said weakly. "She's... I was worried."

Remus nodded and turned to look at the girl in the bed next to him. Peter saw his face wash over with grief and felt even more ashamed. How terrible could he possibly be feeling right now? And Peter had been just thinking of quitting! What kind of awful friend was he? He suddenly felt very aware of the fact that he didn't belong there, that he tainted the room with his presence. He needed to leave.

Peter leapt to his feet, grabbing his jacket from the chair and looked at Remus, who was gazing at him warily, as if measuring his worth. Peter felt very small.

"Well, I suppose I should get going then. She's safe with you, right?" he said, smiling weakly.

Remus glowered, but Peter couldn't tell if it was directed at him or not. It still made him tremble.

"I'll see you later then!" he squeaked before running out the door.

As he moved down the hallway quickly and out into the crisp October air, a wave of relief washed over him, and he suddenly wanted to vomit again. Even being in a hospital room was enough to send him into an episode of cowardice, he thought bitterly to himself. He was no Gryffindor, no brave man, and as he Disapparated for his mother's house, he felt even more ashamed.


	13. Of Lost Flesh & Bones

**A/N**: This is a really important chapter and marks a shift in the story. Also, it's pretty long.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 13: Of Lost Flesh and Bones**

There was so much green fire. Rowan peered around and knew she was burning. She was lying on her back in the fire but could still somehow see the field of flames around her. There was no smoke, but she couldn't breathe. Her lungs seared with pain. Why couldn't she breathe?

She lifted her hands to her face and saw that they were red – was it her blood? She felt her chest. It was wet and open. Her lungs were gone.

A part of Rowan knew she should panic, but she wasn't concerned about the blood or the flames, just that she couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

* * *

Gasping painfully, Rowan jolted awake but immediately found that she couldn't move.

Panic struck her and raced through her blood hotly. The room was so white. Where was all the green? She tried to throw her arms up to shield her eyes from the blinding white light, but an excruciating searing burning shot up her upper arm and down her back. She screamed out in pain.

"Rowan!" a voice called out, and she felt her arms being held down at her sides. She thrashed and screamed again. She was gasping for breath. It was too bright, too bright! She couldn't breathe. Her head and arm were searing. She couldn't breathe!

"Rowan! _Rowan!_" the voice called again. "Rowan, it's me! It's Lily! You're safe! Just calm down!"

Rowan kept thrashing but couldn't maintain her strength. Why was she so weak? Her lungs were burning, and her eyes were being blinded by the whiteness of the room. Why was she there?

Lily?

The face in front of her came into focus, and she slowly recognized the bright red waves in front of her as belonging to her old friend. Her breath still came in shaky gasps, but the terror that had seized her began to fizzle away, and she took the time to assess the room around her.

She was lying in a hospital bed in a stark white room. There were bandages running up her right arm, starting just below her elbow and continuing up into her hospital gown. By the stiffness in her back, she guessed that her entire upper body was covered in bandages as well. How had she gotten there? Where were all of the green flames?

"Where am I?" she croaked. Her throat burned as the sound left her mouth, and Lily moved to get her a glass of water. She held the glass to her mouth gingerly, and Rowan drank gratefully but was filled with anger at the fact that she could barely move her arms to hold the glass herself.

"You're at St. Mungo's," Lily responded quietly as she pulled the now empty glass from Rowan's lips and set it down. "You were badly injured. Do you not remember?" she whispered.

Rowan concentrated hard, but everything was a blur. She could remember green flames and a burning pain. The bandages suddenly made more sense. But why had she gotten hurt?

"Where are Edgar and Wisteria?" she whispered, looking at Lily searchingly. The panic overtook her again.

Lily's lip quivered, and Rowan felt her stomach lurch violently. "The explosion that hit you – it was aimed at the Boneses… They died instantly," she whispered sadly.

Rowan felt a white hot rage shoot through her chest and into her throat.

"How?" she breathed. "_How?"_ her voice was rising with her anger, and Lily looked startled at the sudden volume. "Who could have betrayed us? They were supposed to be safe!" she cried. Hot tears had begun to fall from her eyes. They trailed down her face and to her neck, and she wanted to scream in frustration at the fact that she couldn't even reach up to wipe them away.

"_Why did this happen?"_ she cried. Her throat was burning painfully, but she relished it. She was inconsolable. The grief hit her hard, and she choked on it, gasping again for air.

A group of women in white robes appeared in the doorway and rushed in.

"Miss, you must calm down! You'll reopen your wounds again if you don't stop moving!" they said to her panicking.

Their words only fueled her anger though, and Rowan screamed in frustration. Why couldn't she move? Why had any of this happened? Why did it have to happen to Edgar?

Where was Remus?

She felt a cold pinch in her arm and realized they'd injected her with a Sleeping Draught. Her eyelids immediately began to droop, and though she fought angrily, she felt herself being forced into sleep.

"I'm so sorry, Rowan," Lily whispered.

* * *

When Rowan woke again, her mind was a gray cloud. She blinked blearily around her and was greeted by a calm blue. Hadn't the room been white before?

"Rowan!" someone called out to her.

Her eyes shut again heavily, and she fought to open them. She couldn't remember where she was. Her right arm felt so stiff, and her mouth was painfully dry. She needed water.

As if answering her thoughts, she felt a cool glass being held to her lips, and she drank gratefully and quickly. The water ran down her throat, soothing the soreness there, and its chill seemed to oil the creakiness of her eyelids.

She opened them and saw bright hazel eyes staring down at her. There was a scar above the right eyebrow. She knew that face.

"Remus," she whispered.

The relief on his face was tangible. He exhaled shakily and lifted a hand to her face gently.

"Thank god," he whispered. "Oh, thank god." Why did he look so distraught? She wanted to touch him, but her arms were so sore.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You're still at St. Mungo's, but they've moved you to a stable care unit. You've been here for about a day now," he whispered.

His words sunk in slowly. "How long have I been in the hospital?" she asked.

He grimaced. "About a week," he said quietly. "You woke up a few days ago when Lily was here, but they said you weren't supposed to come to for another few days. They were amazed that you'd woken up so early."

She looked up at the ceiling and the memories of the pain came rushing back. The searing and burning was no longer there, but there was still a dull ache in her left side and a distinct stinging to her right.

"You have some severe burns on your right shoulder and your left side got pretty banged up from landing after you were thrown by the explosion. You're lucky the Killing Curse fire only got your shoulder," he said gravely.

Killing Curse fire – that explained the green flames. Her stomach lurched. How was she even still alive?

"Is everyone else okay? Are you okay?" she breathed, searching his face for any signs of injury.

He nodded but frowned deeply. "Dorcas… She was hit by a Killing Curse, but Arthur said you saw that happen," he responded quietly. Rowan's stomach lurched painfully at the memory of the collapsing woman in a flash of green light. "Everyone else… We're all okay. There were a few broken bones, but nothing more than that. You definitely got the worst of it," he ended bitterly.

She released the breath she'd been holding and relief washed over her like a warm light. "Thank god," she breathed. She closed her eyes as few tears fell. "Thank god." She choked back a sob.

"No," Remus said. She opened her eyes again to look at him. She was startled to see anger boiling in his features.

"No, this wasn't supposed to happen," he bit out. His fists were balled tightly in her bed sheets. "This wasn't supposed to happen! You… You almost died!" She heard the tremble in his voice and wanted desperately to touch him. She struggled to lift her left hand and covered his with it. He grasped it tightly with both of his and doubled over, as if in pain.

"You were screaming. You were covered in the fire, and I couldn't get it out," he sobbed. "I almost lost you!"

She squeezed his hand again. "But you didn't," she said softly. "I'm still here."

Another sob racked through Remus' body and she felt his hot tears on her hand, running between her fingers to her palm. She was so angry that she couldn't move, couldn't hold him. She felt so useless. The tears began to fall from her eyes as well. She felt them run cold down her neck.

Rowan stared up at the ceiling again and listened to the sound of crying that came from both her and Remus. She thought of Edgar Bones' ferocity, and Wisteria's gasping breaths as they ran through the dark woods. Were they together again? The green fire filled her mind, and she had to blink the image away before it consumed her once more. Her arm burned.

* * *

A few days after she woke to see Remus, Rowan had regained the strength to sit up and move her arms, though they remained stiff. The frustration and embarrassment she felt at not being able to even do the most basic of things was overwhelming, and she often found herself on the verge of tears with anger at her own weakness.

She discovered that her left side was black and purple, though the bruises faded more and more everyday. Her right arm, however, healed very slowly. From the elbow up to the inside of her shoulder blade, she had screaming red burns that stung when she moved her right arm at all. The Healers said the extensive scar tissue would remain due to the magical properties of the fire she'd been hit with, and as she looked at the horrifying markings along her arm, she realized darkly that she'd belatedly received the indications of her injuries from the year before tenfold.

All of the Order members came to visit her in the evening, though usually in quiet pairs to not disturb her, and Lily stopped in for at least a few minutes everyday since she worked in the hospital. They brought her updates from Order meetings and books to keep her busy while she was there, as she'd been very bored lying in bed all day. Though loud voices still overwhelmed her, she looked forward to the visits from her friends, as they broke the silence of her dark memories of their failed mission.

Though they'd lost Edgar, Wisteria, and Dorcas in the battle, the Bones children were safe, and they'd been able to put about eight Death Eaters behind bars with another three dead from the fighting. Though she knew objectively they had won a serious battle, it seemed like a very large price to pay. She thought of noble Edgar and how much worse off the Wizarding World was without him in it, and she mourned for his children who would never really get to know the great man their father was.

What surprised her most was Belby's visit. When he saw the burns along her arm, his face went pale, and his eyes widened with horror. He didn't say much, but what he did talk about was awkward and only related to work. She felt strangely warm towards the rough man and even dared to touch his hand reassuringly. He snatched his hand away but didn't say anything to reproach her. As he left, he told her stiffly to take the time she needed to heal and that he'd be waiting for her to return. She couldn't find the words to thank him enough.

Leanna had been released from the hospital right before Rowan had entered it, and they joked that they were playing hospital tag. She and her mother came nearly as frequently as Remus, though earlier in the day to keep her company while Remus was at work. The three would chat quietly about the _Daily Prophet_, and Rowan enjoyed watching the two older women gossip. Sometimes Lyall and her father would even join them, and the joy she felt at seeing them together was dampened by her still dark feelings towards Remus. It was as though fate was dangling an impossible but beautiful future before her eyes, only to snatch it away.

Remus came everyday as she'd expected, and Fabian had even allowed him a few afternoons off to spend with her. He insisted on doing even the most trivial of things for her, and although she appreciated it, her uselessness was increasingly frustrating.

The circles beneath his eyes had darkened considerably, and she knew with guilt that he hadn't been sleeping. He spent a few nights after she'd woken up in the chair next to her, despite her insistence that he go home, and there was a mania in his doting that nearly frightened her.

Even though he'd been obsessed over her care, the rift between them remained. If anything, it had only grown. He could barely make eye contact with her at times, and when he did look at her, it was with a frigid look of barely contained rage. When she asked about the Order, his face would contort with a frightening anger, and it terrified her. It was as if there was another man walking in his skin. She knew objectively that he was probably still traumatized from seeing her so badly injured, but she began dreading her time alone with him. There was no tenderness in his actions, and his movement was stiff, sometimes menacing. She saw no love in his eyes and wondered mourningly if he considered her a burden.

His strange behavior wasn't exclusive to her. In the few occasions that other Order members came in while he was there, she noticed a distinct coolness in his behavior towards them, sometimes even aggression, which startled her. Remus was a reserved man, and he was nothing if not warm and polite, even to those he didn't like. Even their closest friends seemed nervous to be around him. The fear settled deep into her muscles and lungs.

When she asked James and Lily about it, they shifted uneasily and gave her vague answers. She realized with great frustration that the only way she'd be able to get any answers would be to confront him about it, but the thought of asking him such difficult questions when she was already so frightened of him made her tremble with dread.

After about two and a half weeks of being in the hospital, James, Mina, and Sirius had come in to see her right after getting out of work, and she had been thrilled. The four were chatting animatedly, laughing at a story Sirius was telling about a prank he'd pulled on Moody earlier in the day, when Remus came in.

The room hushed as he entered, and Rowan forced a smile to her face, trying to engage all of them as best as she could. She never thought she could feel so uncomfortable in a room with her best friends, but there was an iciness radiating off of Remus that could be felt by all of them.

Sirius coughed and stood, quickly followed by the other two. "Well, we should get going – don't want to intrude on your private time with Moony," he said, grinning awkwardly. He glanced over at his friend, who was avoiding eye contact with him. Rowan felt a surge of anger in her chest at his obvious rudeness but turned back to her friends and smiled genuinely.

"Thank you so much for coming again, you guys. I really appreciate everything," she said warmly.

They brushed off her words of thanks good-naturedly and each hugged her before moving from the room, all of them obviously trying to not look too rushed. As the door shut, Rowan turned angrily towards Remus, who had sat down next to her and was pulling off his jacket jerkily, still bristling noticeably.

"What the hell is going on with you?" she asked. She kicked herself inwardly for attacking him right at the start, but she couldn't think of a single reason for him to be so terribly rude towards his alleged best friends.

His eyes flashed for a moment, but he didn't say anything. After a pause, he answered stiffly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her anger flared again. "Seriously? You're going to lie to my face and tell me everything is all right when you just ignored our friends? You've been a total ass to every Order member that's come in here, and you expect me to not notice?" she ranted. He held his gaze away from her, and the anger grew. "I hurt my arm, not my brain! Do you think I'm stupid?" she accused.

Remus looked up at her finally but still didn't answer her. His face was full of barely contained rage, and she could see a muscle in his jaw twitch. She thought vaguely of how frightened she'd been the first time he'd looked at her in such a way and felt that same icy terror seize her. He didn't look like himself at all. His eyes scanned over her face frantically.

"There's a traitor in the Order, Winnie," he bit out venomously.

Rowan was taken aback. She had thought about it during her quiet moments alone, and Moody's angry shouts from that terrible night had echoed through her head over the past couple of weeks: _Someone betrayed us._

But she couldn't think of anyone who would betray them to Voldemort. Mundungus Fletcher was the only person whom she considered even slightly suspicious, but he was a thief, not a traitor. She knew that if it came down to it, he'd run, but he'd never sell them to the enemy. It was terrifying, and she tried to not think of it while she recovered, but obviously, it had been a serious concern for the Order outside of the hospital walls.

"What's that have to do with our friends? You couldn't possibly think..." she trailed off, realization hitting her. Her eyes widened with horror. "You think it's one of them!" She was mortified. How could he even _think_ something like that? His mates had loyally stayed by his side through all of the trials they'd faced since the moment they'd met! How could the thought have even occurred to him?

He shook his head but still seethed quietly. "I don't know who it is, but I don't want to take any chances. Whoever betrayed us nearly got you killed, and when I find out who it is, I…" he trailed off. His hands fisted tightly in her bed sheets.

He looked up at her, and she was frightened by the pure hatred there. His eyes were razor sharp and pierced through her painfully. She didn't even recognize him. "_I'm going to kill them,"_ he breathed.

A chill shot up her spine, seizing her lungs, and she suddenly didn't know who the man in front of her was. There was no hint of kindness or sorrow there – not even fear. She was scared, terrified of this man. She saw green.

"I'm going to make whomever did this to you pay," he continued. There was a dark depth to his voice she'd never heard before, and it sent an icy wind through her bones. "They're going to suffer for what they've done. I will kill every Death Eater, every traitor, who has ever laid his eyes on you."

The room was spinning, and she had to grasp the sheets to ground herself. Her throat had constricted in fear. She was terrified of him.

"No," she choked.

His eyebrows furrowed, but the overwhelming intensity of his gaze remained. His features remained dark, maniacal, and she inexplicably wanted to shake him violently. Where was Remus?

"No, not like this," she gasped. She fought back the heat that had rushed to her face. "I know there's a traitor in the Order, but it shouldn't happen like this!" The heat was overwhelming her. "It's not one of our friends – you _know_ it's not one of our friends! Why are you acting like this?" she cried.

"The war is changing you, Remus! You would _never_ have accused one of your best friends of betraying us before we joined the war," she said desperately. He was still looking at her with that frigid expression. He felt so far away from her. Why couldn't she reach him?

The tears began to fall. "We'll leave the Order! We don't need to keep fighting anymore. We can just leave, so _please!"_ she begged. She wasn't even sure what she was saying anymore. She grabbed his hands frantically, but they remained balled up and tight. He didn't budge. His face remained stony and hard, and she suddenly wanted to get away from him, to put as much distance between them as possible. She didn't know this man.

An overwhelming wave of grief hit her. She'd lost so much already to this damned war, and now she'd lost the one thing she'd always thought would remain constant. _Where was Remus?_ He was supposed to be kind. He was always kind! When had he changed? How could she have not noticed it? This wasn't the boy she fell in love with, the man she'd been building her future around. She didn't know this person. He terrified her, and she couldn't even stand looking at him.

"I don't know you anymore," she breathed. Her tears spilled hotly and freely. Remus' expression didn't change, and she felt defeated, exhausted. "I don't know who you are. I-" she gasped. She didn't know how to continue. His silence was maddening. She couldn't even remember Remus' voice. She needed to hear him respond desperately, but he just stared through her as if she wasn't even there.

She wanted him gone. She wanted Remus, but she didn't know where to find him. He wasn't there – he wasn't _anywhere_.

"You've left me," she cried. She covered her face, suddenly ashamed of letting this stranger see her tears. "You've left me behind!"

She wept and felt the sobs shake her body. Remus didn't move, didn't touch her, and she felt her grief even more desperately as she realized that he truly wasn't there. The man beside her was a stranger – she didn't know him. She cried until her voice went hoarse.

As her sobs calmed, her breathing still ragged, she heard him stand from his chair, but she didn't look up. She was terrified to look at him, to see someone else walking in Remus' skin, in his bones. He didn't say anything as he moved to the door, and when she finally removed her hands, it was if he'd never been there at all.


	14. Of Old Scars & New Wounds

**A/N**: Sad, sad, sad...

**missalex3030:** Ahhh so glad you like Peter's chapter. I'm pretty excited about developing his story, but he's so hard to write about. And you totally get where I'm going with Remus. Wheee, thank you!

**REVIEW MEEEEEE PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Of Old Scars and New Wounds**

After their discussion about the Order's traitor, Remus didn't return to see her again, and she knew that the rift had finally snapped. Their friends increased their visits to help make up for the void that had been left, though they weren't able to tell her what he'd been up to since she'd last seen him. There was a stiffness to the way they spoke that made her uneasy, but she couldn't get them to tell her why. They tried to comfort her with reassurances that he loved her, but she wasn't sure if even they believed it.

There had been no love in his voice or movements for weeks, only blind anger and violence. She was beginning to think that she'd hallucinated the gentle man that she'd woken to. She wasn't sure where the man who had loved her was, but she wanted to believe that he was just lost in a storm of rage and fear. She missed him to the point of agony.

Rowan left the hospital by the last week of October, and though she wanted to be happy to finally be free of her imprisonment, she couldn't muster up even the effort to try. Her parents insisted on her staying with them for a couple of weeks while her arm continued to heal, and she didn't have the energy to fight them on it.

As she unwound the bandages from her arm and shoulder that first night in her old bedroom, she numbly noted the expanses of rusty scabs over her limbs and the small blotches of red that stained the inside of the gauzy bandages. She stood in front of her mirror naked and turned slowly to finally see the visual damage that had been left. Her hipbones and ribs protruded from her skin unnaturally from the weight that she'd lost, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. The bruising on her left side had faded to a sickening yellow, but the achiness was gone. She felt surprisingly empty at the sight of the red and brown burns that covered the back of her right arm, shoulder, and back. They trailed up to the base of her neck and down slightly past her shoulder blade. She knew they would never truly heal.

She told herself that one day she would look at her old scars with pride and know that she'd been a true soldier, but for now, they only left her feeling heavy with loneliness. She wondered if Remus ever looked at his own scars that way.

* * *

Despite the fact that her son had left Rowan, Leanna Lupin still insisted on spending time with the young woman. She had continued to visit her frequently at the hospital, and a few days after she'd been released, she invited her into their home for the first time to have tea.

It pained Rowan more than she'd expected to see the older woman. Every time she looked at Remus' mother, she saw all of his gentle features and mannerisms, and she grieved for the man she'd lost. He had been pushed into obsession because of her injury, and now she couldn't bring him back. Did Leanna know?

As she stepped into the house from the crisp November afternoon, she scanned over the warm tones of the wooden floors and the general feeling of comfort the house gave. It was a much gentler place than her own home, she thought, and she could easily imagine how a young Remus would become so kind growing up in such a place. It felt very bittersweet.

Rowan and Leanna fell into easy conversation as they always did, and Rowan could almost forget the awkwardness of being in her former boyfriend's childhood home. Her eyes scanned the walls and saw pictures of him as a young boy, before his Hogwarts years. She'd forgotten how thin and tiny he'd been when they were younger – he had been smaller than her until their Fourth Year when he finally seemed to catch up with the rest of the boys. She smiled faintly – who knew he'd end up being the tallest out of all of them?

There were even a few photos with her and the Marauders in them from their Hogwarts years, and she felt a dull pain in her chest. Their lives had turned out so differently from the way they'd imagined while in school. She wished they'd been born in a different time.

Leanna's voice broke her from her sad thoughts. "Will you tell me what's happened to Remus?" she asked quietly.

Rowan looked at her and suddenly felt very ashamed. Wasn't all of this partially her fault? She knew she couldn't be blamed for getting hurt, but the reason he'd lost himself was because of her. If she'd just had the courage to break up with him after James and Lily's wedding, this might not have happened.

"I don't know," she answered quietly. She stared dazedly at the cup in her hands and felt the warm ceramic beneath her fingers. "I don't even know who he is anymore," she whispered ashamedly.

Leanna gazed at her with furrowed brows but said nothing, waiting for Rowan to continue.

"After I was attacked, it was like he was a different person," she said. "He was cold to our friends and even to me. He discovered that there's a traitor in the Order," she admitted quietly.

Leanna's eyes widened with fear, and Rowan grimaced but continued. "He's determined to find out who it is, but it's become an obsession. It's violent and dark and wrong. He's even suspecting our friends, and nothing I say can reach him," she despaired. Her hands clutched at the teacup tightly.

"I don't know what to do," she whimpered. "All I want is to be with him, but I can't find him anywhere!" She blinked rapidly as she felt the stinging emerge.

A hand gripped her forearm, and she looked up. Leanna was gazing at her with watery eyes, and Rowan felt the guilt rip through her again.

"You are such a good girl," she said softly. Rowan frowned deeply.

"I worry so much about him – every moment of the day," Leanna continued. "He's been avoiding us, and we were so scared that something had happened to him," she said tearfully. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

Rowan's frowned deepened. "But I haven't done anything," she protested. She was so confused – how could this woman be so calm?

But Leanna didn't answer and stood with her teacup, carefully balancing it with her good arm and walking towards the kitchen counter. Rowan continued to frown and stare into her cup. Her reflection in the tea was red. Was it just the distortion of the liquid, or were her cheeks more sunken than usual? She mused bitterly that she looked like Remus.

Suddenly there was a shattering of glass, and Rowan leapt to her feet and spun around. Leanna was doubled over and leaning against the counter unsteadily. The teacup had shattered over the floor in pieces. She was gripping her left arm tightly, and her eyelids were drooping unnaturally.

"Leanna!" she cried, running to the woman's side and grabbing her by the shoulders, ignoring the painful crunching of the glass cutting into her feet. Panic seized her lungs. She held the older woman firmly and looked around the kitchen wildly. What was she supposed to do?

It was too dangerous to put her down in the middle of the broken glass, and she couldn't reach her wand. She realized with horror that she was going to have to carry her to the door. Gripping her tightly, she lifted her with difficulty and cursed at her body for still being so weak. In a burst of adrenaline, she stumbled towards the door with the older woman in her arms. The sole of her left foot was bleeding from a piece of ceramic gouged into her heel. As soon as she hit the front porch, she Disapparated with Leanna in her arms. They collapsed in a heap in front of St. Mungo's to a flurry of surprised shouts.

"Somebody help me! I need a Healer now!" she shouted. Wizards and witches stared at her with bewilderment, and she felt a surge of anger. "NOW!" she screamed, and a couple of witches ran into the building, shouting for help.

Rowan looked down at the limp woman in her arms. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and Rowan felt the panic seize her again. She cradled her head gently and squeezed her hands, shaking them.

"Leanna! _Leanna!_ You have to stay with me! _Please!_" she begged hysterically. She could barely see beyond her tears.

A group of Healers suddenly appeared, levitating the woman out of Rowan's arms and onto a stretcher. She scrambled to her feet and ran after them into the building but was grabbed by another Healer.

"Miss, your foot is bleeding!" he rushed.

Rowan felt a surge of anger. "My friend is in there! I have to be with her!" she said, pushing the man off of her, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"You can't go in there though! No one's allowed in there except for patients and Healers! And you're bleeding all over the floor! We need to fix your foot before it gets infected!" he reasoned desperately.

She screamed in frustration and looked about her wildly. Leanna had disappeared behind a pair of private doors with the Healers, and she knew the pestering man was right. She felt the tears overcome her again and pounded her fist against the wall, crying in anger. She slid down it slowly in defeat as she felt the man stoop down to tend to her foot. The sharp pain of the glass being pulled from her heel compared nothing to the grief that seized her.

* * *

The rest of the day swept by in a dark haze, and Rowan lost track of time. She waited numbly at St. Mungo's for Lyall and Remus after sending them Patronuses. They both arrived only minutes after.

She felt empty and tired standing in the waiting room in front of them, barefoot with her left foot bandaged. She knew she should feel embarrassed by her appearance, but she couldn't seem to muster much emotion at all. She remembered vaguely that there would be blood and broken glass on their floor when they returned home.

Rowan couldn't raise her eyes to meet either of the men's faces and felt even more ashamed at her inability to even communicate with people she was supposedly close to. But she was terrified to see Remus – he'd already left her, and now his mother was hurt again. Would he blame her? Hadn't their conversation been what instigated Leanna's second stroke? Her stomach felt empty but heavy, and she wanted to be anywhere else.

Lyall had gripped her tightly in an embrace before she left and whispered words of gratitude to her, but she felt like they were all very misplaced. Remus made no move towards her or indication that he wanted to speak to her. She left feeling very empty. When she arrived home, her mother and Alfred were frantic at her appearance. She relayed what had happened to them numbly but couldn't remember a single word of it later or how they'd responded. She went up to bed after without dinner and fell into a deep dreamless asleep immediately.

* * *

When she woke early the next day, Carole was seated at the kitchen table crying. Leanna Lupin had died in the middle of the night.

A wave of despair crashed over Rowan. She heard it rushing through her ears and felt as if her body was being swept away. Before she knew it, she was on the front porch of the Lupins' house knocking on the door. She didn't know how or when she'd dressed herself, but she dumbly recognized that she was wearing shoes and even a coat. It was quite cold.

She was surprised to see Sirius answer the door. He smiled in relief at her and swooped her up into a fierce embrace, which she returned. She suddenly felt very warm and happier than she'd been in ages to see her friend. Her surroundings seemed to come into focus. Had she been sleepwalking?

The Lupins' living room was full of her friends. Mina, Lily, and Peter were writing out letters, and James was washing dishes in the kitchen. The broken teacup and blood were gone from the floor.

Lyall sat in a large leather chair looking dazed. His eyes were closed, but Rowan somehow knew he wasn't asleep. Her friends all looked up as she entered the room, and their faces all washed over with the same smiles of relief that Sirius had shown. Lyall opened his eyes at the sudden greetings and smiled thinly at Rowan. He tried to stand, but she rushed forward and made him sit back down. She knelt down beside him and grasped his hand tightly in both of hers.

"Lyall," she choked out. Why was it so hard for her to speak? "Lyall, I'm so sorry," she said. She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but it felt like the appropriate thing to do. The guilt spread through her again.

He covered her hands with his own and smiled gently. "You silly girl," he breathed. His eyes crinkled fondly at her. "There's nothing to be sorry for," he said kindly.

She shook her head but said nothing. She felt the tears emerge again but blinked them away.

He smiled gently at her. "I should be thanking you," he said softly. "If you hadn't been there…" he trailed off. He breathed shakily and gripped her hands almost painfully. "I'm eternally grateful to you. You've been so good to our family, and you were a wonderful friend to Leanna."

She shook her head again. "No," she choked, "You've been too good to me, much better than I deserve. I should've been able to do more."

He continued to smile at her but said nothing. He leaned back again and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. She looked around the room at all of her friends, who had gone back to their tasks. Sirius had joined James in the kitchen, and she noted fondly how strange it was to see them in such a domestic setting – under any other circumstances, she would've laughed. Peter and the girls were silently writing very serious letters...

Grief hit her again – they were funeral service arrangements.

"Where is Remus?" she asked quietly, mostly to herself.

Lyall sighed but didn't look up. "He's upstairs. He hasn't come down since we came home last night," he said without opening his eyes.

Rowan's chest constricted, and she stood slowly, releasing Lyall's hands. He opened his eyes and gazed up at her calmly.

"He misses you," he said softly.

Rowan didn't respond but looked at the older man sadly. He smiled and then closed his eyes again.

Rowan turned and walked into the hallway towards the stairs. They were the same warm brown wood of the floors, and as she gazed up them, she imagined Remus' steady gait as they'd walked up the moving stairs at Hogwarts together when they were younger. She found her feet lifting one after the other, feeling the cool wood beneath her toes.

At the top of the stairs, she peered into the three open rooms, which were the toilet and two empty bedrooms. The large size of one told her that it was Lyall and Leanna's room. The bed was neatly done, and Rowan was reminded of Remus' clean habits.

The last door down the hall was closed, and she felt her throat constrict, realizing that it was Remus'. As she stood in front of it, she took in the basic details of the door and noted numbly that it was all quite normal. But he'd grown up here. How many of his fingerprints were imprinted into this doorknob? How many times had he slammed this door shut in anger as a child? She was struck by how much she didn't know about him and wanted desperately to see him.

As she raised her hand to knock on the door, she took a shaky breath and prayed that she would finally find Remus in this room. Perhaps he'd been waiting there all along.


	15. Of Closing Doors & Opening Paths

**A/N**: Sad, then happy, then what? It's all so volatile.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 15: Of Closing Doors and Opening Paths**

Rowan waited with bated breath for a moment after knocking on Remus' door. It was strangely silent – had he fallen asleep? She was debating whether to just enter or not when the door opened slowly.

He frowned in confusion at the sight of her, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious. His eyes were red and swollen, as she imagined hers were. She scanned his face quickly and felt relief wash over her – it was Remus, _really_ Remus.

She let out a shaky breath and smiled weakly at him that seemed insufficient. She wanted him to know how glad she was to see him, how grateful she was that he was there. His lip quivered. He didn't say anything but stepped aside silently to let her into his room. As he closed the door behind her, she looked around his pale blue room and at his belongings and tried to memorize each item, every detail.

There was a line of photos pasted on his wall above his desk, and she realized that there was one from each year at Hogwarts. The first two were of just him and the Marauders, all small and scrawny with large grins, waving maniacally at the camera and shoving each other playfully. After that, she was in each of them. After their Fourth Year, he seemed to grow taller than the rest increasingly. She also noted fondly that they seemed to move closer to each other each year until, eventually, they posed together in the Seventh Year photo, arms wrapped tightly around each other and giggling madly. The photo of them in the Common Room that she'd given him for Christmas their Sixth Year was framed and sat on his desk.

The nostalgia ached in her chest, and she looked back up to see Remus gazing at her longingly. She felt pink heat in her cheeks and was slightly embarrassed at the fact that she was embarrassed at all. It was as if looking at the photos of their past transplanted her back into her awkward schoolgirl days, and she had to avert her gaze.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked. His voice sounded hoarse, but she cherished the sound. It was so warm, so familiar, and she couldn't believe that she had nearly forgotten it in such a short time.

"Should I leave?" she asked, looking back up to him quickly. A small surge of embarrassment bubbled in her chest.

"No!" he blurted out. His face also reddened, and she was pleased that he also felt awkward. Was being in his childhood space making them both regress?

She looked down again uncomfortably and fidgeted with her hands. "Okay," she said stiffly. Why was this so difficult?

"I just," she started, not really knowing what to say, "I wanted to see you," she said lamely, keeping her eyes on the floor.

"Oh," he said weakly, "Thank you."

They stood in silence for a moment, neither looking at each other. Rowan's heart was thudding painfully in her chest. She was scouring her mind for something to say, but she couldn't think of anything. She hazarded a glance towards him and saw that he was staring at the photos above his desk with a frustrated frown, teeth worrying his bottom lip. The expression was so endearing, so very like him that she was overcome with a strange relief – he had been there all along.

Before she could stop herself, she'd moved forward and thrown her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Her suddenness startled him and he jerked clumsily for a moment, staring down at her. He was so warm, so familiar. Where had he gone? She'd missed him so much, and as she felt him against her, she felt her tears surface again.

He placed his hands awkwardly on her shoulders. They trembled slightly as they slid slowly around her. Finally, he relaxed into her embrace and squeezed her back. He sighed shakily and held her tightly. She felt his chest begin to tremble and then his tears hit her neck. She wanted to be engulfed by him, to feel her bones meld into his so that she never lost him again. She wanted to know where he'd been, where he'd disappeared to, but it could wait. She dug her fingers into the back of his shirt and knew joyously that he'd finally come home.

* * *

Leanna's funeral passed in a blur. Rowan felt ashamed that she couldn't remember a single word of Remus' eulogy, but as they sat together after in a daze, she guessed that probably even he didn't remember it either.

She sat in the front with him during the service, and he gripped her hand tightly through it all. Neither of the Lupin men cried at the service or as they set Leanna into the ground, but Rowan knew that they'd already shed enough tears to mourn several lifetimes.

After they said their goodbyes to the bright woman, they gathered in the Lupin household quietly. Their friends sat together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Remus still gripped Rowan's hand, and she leaned against him, letting the pressure of her body ground him.

As the sun began to set, people began to trickle out, and Rowan realized that she was one of the last. She shifted slowly, indicating to him that she was planning on leaving as well, but Remus' grip on her remained firm. She looked up at him questioningly and saw that he was leaning back with his eyes closed. He looked very much like his father. Still, his finger remained laced in hers tightly, and she realized that she wasn't going anywhere.

Once the last guests had left, Lyall said goodnight to them and went up to bed quietly. Rowan watched him sadly go up the stairs and mourned the fact that he was sleeping in that large bed alone.

She felt Remus shift and stand slowly from the couch, pulling her up gently with him. He looked at her cautiously.

"Will you stay?" he whispered, eyes searching hers.

She felt uncomfortable – he couldn't possibly want to be intimate at a time like this, could he? She hesitated but nodded slowly, and he smiled weakly at her before leading her up the stairs and into his room.

As he closed the door behind her, she felt her chest tighten with panic – she couldn't sleep with him. They weren't together anymore, and she couldn't even pretend to be in the mood for anything physical after the day that they'd had. Relief washed over her as Remus moved to his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for her to wear. He handed them to her shyly, and she took them gratefully. She turned her back to him as she moved to undress, and he averted his gaze from her. She felt strangely saddened by it.

After she'd tugged on his baggy clothes, she crawled into bed with him. He hesitantly wrapped an arm around her middle, and she let him pull her against him gently. She wrapped her arms up his back and buried her face into his chest, inhaling him into her lungs. If she had anything left in her to give, she would have cried at the familiarity of it all. Would this be the last time he ever held her? Tomorrow, they'd probably go back to being friends – this was all special circumstance. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes. Once she felt the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest even out, she let herself fall asleep. She dreamt of blue walls and chiming bells dripping with red tea.

* * *

After spending the night with Remus, they'd woken up blearily to the yellow morning sun. It reminded her of Leanna and their cheerful conversations over autumn wind. She'd expected to feel awkward, but they were surprisingly comfortable with each other, and as she redressed in her robes, she didn't feel the need to turn away from him, though he was polite and didn't stare.

But even though there was a renewed comfort between them, he made no move to touch her beyond the warm embraces of reassurance they shared, and her gratitude was bittersweet. She mourned what they'd lost, and when she returned home, she cried quietly, for it felt as if the last chapter of their relationship had finally closed with Leanna's passing. Perhaps they were never meant to be together at all, and they'd both been forcing it out of a need for something genuine. Even so, she thought of the future she'd imagined for the past three years of her life with a deep sorrow. She mentally placed her memories of him in the box of his old letters and closed it, pushing it out of sight underneath her bed. But as she stored it away, she remembered all the moments before when she'd said that it was time to move on from him, and she thought sadly to herself that no matter how her life seemed to change, certain things always remained the same.

Rowan returned to work the next week, and she was grateful for the normality of it all. She could always rely on Belby to be a man of habit, even to the point of discomfort. After he inquired briefly about her injury and Leanna's passing, he made no mention of anything beyond work again, and Rowan fell into the regularity with relief.

She resumed her manic dedication to work, and even Belby had praised her gruffly for her progress. Despite the loss of her love and dear friend, she hadn't felt so accomplished in ages and was beginning to think that perhaps she could move on with her life. She couldn't foresee herself finding anyone else, at least not in the near future, but she finally understood – truly understood – that, unlike her mother, she couldn't waste her years away waiting for a man whose mind was somewhere else. Even if her career was dedicated to healing that man, it was a cure for her as well.

She'd begun keeping a bag of toiletries at the laboratory as her nights there became more frequent. Remus still insisted on escorting her home when she left in the middle of the night, which encouraged her to work into the morning in order to avoid burdening him, though she could tell that he worried incessantly still about her protection. She still saw him frequently on Order business and out with their friends, but she couldn't be around him too often without worrying that she'd grow complacent. He seemed to understand and kept his distance, but she couldn't help but suspect that he kept a closer eye on her than what was apparent.

In mid-December, Rowan and Belby were working late into the night again. They had been experimenting for months with the various forms of aconite, and Rowan had shrieked with joy when her lycanthropic mice had begun showing signs of less aggression under steady influence of wolfsbane. Belby had grumbled at her display, but the fiery excitement in his eyes was undeniable, and they dove into her lead with a manic ferocity.

She noted that aconite in the form of monkshood was useless, but the wolfsbane portion of the plant, when brewed with crushed smoked moonstone, offset the lycanthropic symptoms. The proportions of her potion still weren't right and she hadn't figured out the correct brewing period, but the thought that she was so close was enough to keep her and Belby going with an intense fire.

* * *

It was the night of the full moon and a few days before Christmas. They knew they wouldn't have another chance like this for a month, and they'd been injecting the mice for an entire week with the potion. Belby had his pocket watch out and was counting down the seconds until the moon was at its peak. Rowan watched with bated breath as the mice contorted grotesquely, hair bristling and high voices shrieking. She cringed – no matter how many times she'd watched the process, she always thought of Remus. Her heart ached.

But after the contorting stopped, instead of the usual violent thrashing and frightening noises, the mice remained still, sedated almost. One of the mice even moved to the edge of the cage and peered curiously up at them. After a few minutes, most of them simply fell asleep. The sight of their twisted forms in such a peaceful state was haunting, and though the two potioneers waited for any signs of intoxication or returned aggression, they remained sleeping.

She and Belby shared a silent moment, but she felt the same electricity between them as she had the first day they'd met and she'd convinced him that she was worth the risk of taking on as his apprentice. She looked at him with wide eyes. He was breathing hard, shakily. Her legs trembled, and she feared that they would collapse beneath her. But then for the first time in the year and a half that she'd been with him, he laughed.

It was loud and trumpeting and triumphant. It echoed through the lab raucously, and she suddenly felt her own laughter bursting from her lungs and bouncing off the walls with his. He grabbed her with rough hands and threw his arms around her neck, squeezing her with such force that it knocked the wind from her lungs, but she didn't care. She squeezed him back, and when she couldn't find the words to express her joy, she simply screamed with excitement. She had never felt such elation. It seemed cruel that her body couldn't lift itself into the air with her happiness.

The two leapt drunkenly around the lab, screeching with hysterical laughter until they collapsed breathlessly with tears in their eyes to the floor. They laid on the cold stone ground, each gasping for breath, faces sore from laughing but both still grinning maniacally. The coolness of the floor was soothing on her skin, which she realized was burning from the heat of her hysteria. She closed her eyes and listed all the ways she was grateful. Remus' face burned into her mind, and she suddenly wanted to cry.

"Delacroix," Belby murmured.

She opened her eyes and looked over at the Potions Master. He was still lying on his back with his arms and legs sprawled around him. His eyes were closed. There were silent tears running down his cheeks.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

Rowan thought her chest might burst, and she allowed the joyous tears to break through. She beamed at the older man, even though he couldn't see it.

"No, thank _you_, Master Belby," she replied.

* * *

A pair of dark-robed figures stood outside of Damocles Belby's apothecary with wands held to their ears, a faint glow emitted from the tips. As they heard the laughter inside die down, they lowered their wands and shared a look before moving out of the shadows and into the street.

The moon was bright and full, illuminating the white sheet of snow that had fallen on the streets of Diagon Alley. One of the men grinned. The Dark Lord would be pleased.


	16. Of the Imprint of Memories

**A/N**: A breath of fresh air to break through the darkness!

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 16: Of the Imprint of Memories**

Rowan was struggling through the snow down the streets of Diagon Alley. The previous night had seen a snowfall of a good six inches, and she was marching through, trying her very best not to stumble. The winter sun was bright and reflected off the white snow blindingly, and the wind stung her cheeks till they were rosy. She thought that it was a wonderful day to be alive.

It was Christmas Eve, and the apothecary would be closed, but she knew that her master would be in the laboratory working anyway, so she'd come out to assist him for the day. Ever since their miraculous night of discoveries and laughter, there had been a lightness to the older man that she'd never imagined he could ever possess. She caught herself watching him at times while they worked, and even in the times of exhaustion, the secret smile on his face was enough to keep her enthusiastic.

If Belby was surprised to see her there, he made no mention of it, and they worked as if it were any other day. Though they had made a breakthrough, they still needed to test the dosages and try to improve the formula further. They also needed to start searching for human test subjects, which would be incredibly difficult. They received the lycanthropic mice from Ministry grants, but convincing werewolves to undergo testing was a risky task – not only would they be risking the subjects' health, but they would also be exposed to werewolves on the full moon. It would also probably require a great amount of funding. The entire ordeal would need serious preparation. Rowan made a mental note to speak to Fabian about requesting help with the protective spells.

At the end of the day, Rowan moved to her bag and pulled a small, neatly wrapped box from it. She turned and saw Belby hunched over his cauldron with his mouth twisted in concentration. She smiled fondly at the older man and cleared her throat.

He looked over at her with a frown and then noticed the gift in her hands. His frown deepened.

"What nonsense is that?" he growled.

She grinned. "Well, you already rudely turned down my invitation to dinner tonight, so I thought it would only be right if you accepted a Christmas present instead," she said brightly. "Don't worry, it's nothing _intimate_," she said cheekily.

He glowered at her but reached out a hand. She passed it to him and watched with great amusement as he unwrapped the red paper awkwardly. It seemed that he hadn't received a gift in a long time.

He pulled a small rectangular box from the wrapping paper and opened it carefully to reveal a new pair of glasses. He frowned at them then looked up at her questioningly.

"I noticed yours have a bit of a crack in them, and the frames are bent," she said casually. "Also, these are enchanted so they repel smoke and steam. You'll be able to see better while you brew now. They're already the correct prescription – I found it while organizing your files a few weeks ago."

He looked over the glasses, turning them over in his hands while nodding slowly. He pulled his old frames off and slowly slid the new ones on carefully. He turned to face her with an awkward expression on his face.

She grinned with delight. "Very sharp, Master Belby. I must say that I have excellent taste," she said proudly.

He snorted but stuck his old pair in the box and snapped it shut. "Thank you I suppose," he mumbled. Rowan felt her heart sing at his words.

He shifted uncomfortably and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I haven't got anything for you," he said awkwardly.

She smiled and waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense, you already pay me! That's enough of a gift, isn't it?" she joked lightly. It was the truth. She hadn't expected him to give her anything, and she wasn't exactly sure how she would've reacted if he had.

He grunted in response and then moved to place the box in a drawer in his desk. Rowan stood and started pulling her coat on.

"Sure I can't interest you in Christmas dinner? Remus will be there – I know how much you love werewolves," she joked.

He snorted derisively in response and waved her off. She laughed lightly as she picked up her bag.

"Merry Christmas, Master Belby," she said happily as she moved towards the stairs.

Just as she reached the top, she heard him call out after her, "Merry Christmas, girl."

* * *

That evening, the Delacroix family threw a small get together for their close friends, including the Potters and the Lupins. Mina and Sirius were spending their Christmas with the Surreys, and Peter with his parents on holiday in the countryside. Rowan mused that it would be amazingly entertaining to see Sirius with Mina's little brother Will on holiday. The younger boy had nearly idolized Sirius during his First Year, and she wondered how their dynamic had changed since the young man had begun dating his older sister. She hadn't seen him since they'd graduated – wouldn't he be in his Third Year now?

It was their first Christmas since John and Leanna had passed, and though the group was grateful to see the year end peacefully, it was bittersweet. It was also the first Christmas that Rowan and Remus had really spent as just friends since their Fifth Year at Hogwarts. Rowan still felt slightly stiff at times figuring out their new – or was it old – dynamic, but they had been getting better at resuming their friendship.

Carole, Alfred, and Julia had created a beautiful dinner for the party, and by the end of pudding, Lyall and Richard were on their way to being quite drunk. Rowan couldn't help but laugh with gratitude in her heart as she watched the two older men laugh raucously together like they were old friends. She mused for a moment that they might have been in-laws under different circumstances. She scowled inwardly at herself for the lapse and pushed the thought away.

As the evening continued, Rowan, James and Remus got roped into drinking with the older men, sitting around the floor by their feet. As drinks got knocked back, it became more and more apparent to the party that Remus was bad at holding his liquor. Indeed, Rowan had matched him drink for drink and barely had a buzz whereas he was quite tipsy, which was even more pathetic when one considered that he was nearly twice her size. The older men got quite a laugh from it, slapping Remus on the back and laughing harder as he swayed in his seat.

"He must have gotten it from his mother! She was never able to hold her liquor," his father said jovially. Remus scowled slightly at his father, and Rowan beamed happily at the thought of a bubbly but tipsy Leanna.

Richard grinned proudly at Rowan. "I might not have gotten a son, but my girl sure can drink like one!" he boomed proudly, ruffling her hair affectionately. James snickered at her.

"She sure dresses like one too," James teased. Rowan glowered at him and punched him hard in the arm. The older men laughed wildly at James' whimpers.

"Rowan, dear, go fetch your old records! We should have some music!" Carole called. The men shouted in agreement, and Rowan laughed, as she stood wobbly to run to her room. As she moved to her shelf, she looked over them quickly and didn't feel like sorting through them, so she grabbed the whole stack.

As she dropped them in front of her mother on the coffee table and sat back down, she watched as the other three women sorted through them, commenting on a few. Lily pulled one out in particular, and Rowan felt herself choke slightly on her drink as she realized that it was one of the old French records that Remus had sent her for her sixteenth birthday.

"Oh, I love this record!" she cooed dreamily. "Can we listen to this one?" she asked Carole eagerly.

Carole smiled fondly at the cover. "Oh, Rowan used to listen to this for hours," she said nostalgically. "Yes, pop it into the player, dear."

Rowan stared down into her glass and felt her face burn. She hadn't listened to those old love songs in years, as they always reminded her of her sad pining for Remus. She couldn't bring herself to look up in fear that he had recognized the record.

But as the smoky voice of the female crooner began to sing, she didn't have time to stress as she felt someone grab her hand roughly, snatching her drink from her hands and placing it on the table before jerking her to her feet. James pulled her into his arms dramatically and began turning her around the room.

"Oh, James, you remember!" Julia cried happily.

James and Rowan's mothers had forced them to take etiquette classes when they were young, before their Hogwarts years, and they'd spent hours learning the proper eating utensils and how to dance "like a lady and gentleman should," according to the older women. They'd both hated it, often playing pranks on their instructors and purposefully spilling food over their dress robes during the dining lessons. They had even gone so far as to trade clothes mid-lesson once, much to the horror of their instructors and fury of their mothers. The only times they'd willingly used their dancing lessons was with their parents at Ministry events and weddings, and even then, it was often painful.

But as James turned her around the room for the first time in years, though a bit drunkenly, Rowan couldn't help but laugh and feel slightly grateful for the lessons. They moved rather gracefully, considering their intoxication, and Rowan was struck by how much they'd grown. She forgot the awkwardness of the song and laughed along with James and the older men's drunken hollering. When the song ended and shifted to the next one, he dipped her low and dramatically, and they both laughed with delight. As he righted her back up, she pulled away and grabbed Lily, pushing her into James' embrace.

"Your turn!" she exclaimed happily.

Lily's face turned red. "But I don't know how!" she cried, flustered.

James and Rowan laughed and showed her the basic steps. In no time, Lily had picked it up, though still slightly awkward and nervous, and Rowan sat back down on the floor by Remus and their fathers and watched the pair fondly.

* * *

By the end of the night, all three of the older men were quite drunk, and the mothers spoke in hushed tones in the drawing room. Richard pulled Lyall and Alfred into his study to share with him a rare bottle of firewhiskey that he'd procured from a colleague, and James and Lily were once again lost in their tiny world for two.

This left Rowan and Remus. She was feeling quite warm from the drinking and dancing and decided to step outside for a moment and invited Remus to come with her. She was too drunk to care if it was awkward. Besides, they used to sneak out onto the grounds together all the time at Hogwarts, right?

"Care for a quick walk?" she asked Remus.

He smiled and nodded, standing to his feet with her, and they pulled on their coats before stepping outside.

It was cold and refreshing. The snow glowed blue in the nighttime light. The snow of the yard was untouched, and Rowan was overcome with the urge to mark it. She ran out into the snow with a loud cry, startling Remus, and threw herself into it. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the clear starry sky and shouted loudly into the air, just for the sake of disrupting the silent night.

She heard a soft laugh and the crunching of snow as Remus approached her slowly. When he reached her feet, he turned and laid down next to her.

"You're such a child," he teased.

She blew a raspberry at him. "I prefer whimsical, thank you," she replied smartly.

They breathed the cold winter air deeply and stared up at the sky, enjoying the other's company in silence.

"It's been a long time since we've done this," he noted.

Rowan hummed in agreement. "Yeah, it was all much easier in school," she replied. "I wonder if anyone uses our old spot now."

Remus sighed but didn't respond, and they continued to lie there for a few more minutes before Rowan felt the snow melting into her clothes. She shivered.

Remus seemed to notice and said softly, "Come on. Let's go inside before you get sick."

He stood slowly and brushed himself off before reaching out and grabbing Rowan's hand, pulling her to her feet. The dizzy tipsiness she'd felt when they'd come out was suddenly gone, and the world around her seemed much more focused. She looked up at Remus and was reminded of all the times he'd pulled her from the snow at Hogwarts, but he looked so much older now, no longer the boy of her old memories. She wondered if she looked any different. His eyes glowed in the moonlight.

They moved slowly back toward the house, snow crunching beneath her feet loudly. As they opened the door, they took their wet boots off and shook their clothes out, removing their coats and hanging them to dry. She felt the heat of the house seep into her slowly, her cheeks and ears still burning from the cold. She knew they were probably pink.

It suddenly seemed very quiet, and as they moved slowly back towards the center of the house, she felt a dull ache in her chest at the proximity between them. It was if she was distantly reliving an old memory, and the feeling was bittersweet.

Just as they reached the long hallway that led back to the drawing room, Remus grabbed her hand and pulled her back gently. She looked at him, confused, and he smiled anxiously at her. He glanced upward. Rowan followed his gaze and saw mistletoe hanging from a light above them, and her stomach flipped. She looked back at him and licked her lips nervously.

"For old times' sake?" he asked softly. She thought she saw his gaze darken for a moment, but it must have been a trick of the light.

She smiled nervously back at him. Her face burned, but she replied, "Sure."

As he leaned forward, he reached up to brush her hair from her face, which was wet from the snow. His fingers were surprisingly warm, and the calluses on his fingertips grazed her cheek. She repressed a shiver.

His lips met hers softly, chastely, and she held her breath, forcing herself not to move, not to deepen it. His mouth moved against hers momentarily before pulling back, and in an instant, it was over. Rowan felt the imprint of his lips on hers and had to stop herself from reaching up to touch them with her fingers. His face was still lowered close to hers, and she saw him smile gently at her. She could barely breathe.

"Merry Christmas, Winnie," he whispered before pulling away. He smiled again and took her hand in his tenderly, pulling her down the hallway slowly.

The dreamlike state Rowan had been in before remained, and as they moved down the hall, her mind was in a daze. It all seemed very surreal.

She looked down at his hand, whose fingers were clasped around her own loosely. She still felt the ache of longing but smiled sadly at the dullness of it. She noted that despite their kiss, they were still very much just friends, and as this year ended, he was no longer hers.


	17. Of Sacrifice in the Face of Fire

**A/N**: Sad again… This entire story is just sad…

I noticed that there are a lot fewer views for Ch. 14 than Ch. 15... Did some of you skip it by accident? I did post them at the same time, so it'd make sense if you just jumped to the last chapter by accident without realizing the double post. Ch. 15 doesn't make much sense without the one before it, so make sure you didn't skip over it!

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 17: Of Sacrifice in the Face of Fire**

The New Year passed quietly, and the Order was grateful that the Death Eaters had left the holidays alone. Remus never mentioned their quiet Christmas Eve kiss again, and Rowan did her best to forget it, though the feeling of his lips against hers remained for some time after. She'd thrown herself back into her work with Belby after the holidays to distract herself, and they'd begun searching for research grants and test subjects, though the subjects would be easier to find once they'd procured some more funding.

Their manic hours of working had continued into January and passed into February almost seamlessly. Her missions with the Order had been small but successful, and her friendship with Remus had returned to normal. Overall, it had been a wonderful and happy month.

One evening early in February, Rowan was planning on spending another late night in the lab with Belby.

"Master Belby, I'm going to step out for a cup of coffee. Would you like some?" she asked, stretching her stiff limbs as she stood.

He grunted in response.

"Ok, one cream, right?" she asked.

He grunted again, and she snickered, pulling on her coat and walking up the stairs.

Alexander cooed at her softly in greeting. She rubbed him affectionately on the head before heading out of the shop and into the cold, relishing the cool air in her lungs. She looked up at the sky and noted happily that the moon was still in its waning phase. She hummed softly to herself as she headed down the street for Rosa Lee's, jingling a few Knuts in her pocket.

* * *

Damocles Belby continued to work diligently after his apprentice left. He stopped and pulled his glasses onto his forehead to rub his eyes blearily. He thought mildly that it was a good time for her to get coffee.

"Customer! Customer!" he heard Alexander squawk from above the lab. He grumbled to himself in annoyance and moved to the base of the stairs.

"We're closed! Come back tomorrow!" he shouted up the stairs, but no one responded. He waited to listen for the bell to ring again, indicating that they'd left, but he only heard muffled voices and faint shuffling.

"Hey! Didn't you hear me? We're closed!" he shouted again, starting to grow angry.

Suddenly, he heard a crash of glass bottles and panic seized him. He grabbed his wand and ran up the stairs. As soon as he turned the corner, he threw a Stunning Spell at the first figure he saw, hitting a dark-robed form, which grunted and fell into a shelf, sending another wave of bottles down to the ground in shatters.

Alexander began flapping his ragged wings wildly and shrieking with fear, "_Intruder! Intruder!"_

A flash of green light shot past Belby and hit the wall behind him, sending it into green flames. They singed his ears, and he cried out in pain. Alexander kept shrieking and thrashing, and the remaining Death Eater shouted at him in anger, "Shut _up!_" throwing another green beam of light at the bird. Alexander seized for a moment for dropping to the ground with a sickening thud.

Belby roared in anger at the sight of his dead shopkeeper and threw another hex at the Death Eater, but he dodged it and the spell hit another shelf of potions.

"_Get the hell out of my shop!"_ he shouted, throwing spell after spell, but the dark figure ran across the room quickly, dodging and blocking the Potions Master's attacks.

"You're too slow, old man!" taunted the Death Eater gleefully. He pointed his wand at a wall and spouted green fire from his wand at the shelves there, which burst into flames.

Belby's throat constricted, and he realized that this insane man would burn his entire building down. He turned and ran down the stairs, slamming the door and locking it behind him magically. He stumbled down the stairs, tripping over the last few, and ran to his notes. He gathered up everything he could grab and began shoving all of it into boxes, muttering fireproofing charms on all of them. He heard the man pounding on the door above him.

"_Come on out, you old bastard! You can't hide from me!"_ he jeered.

Damocles rushed around the room, grabbing test tubes and vials, notebooks and old texts. He whispered every protective charm he could possibly think of on the boxes, but before he could finish, the door burst open and a sea of green flames shot through. He felt the searing heat as the fire began to trickle down the wooden steps and scrambled to his feet.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_ he shouted. A silvery elephant burst from his wand and stood its ground in front of him, stamping its feet wildly and forming a glowing shield in front of its master. He braced himself and pushed the boxes into the far corner, preparing to fight. He would protect those files with his life.

* * *

As Rowan stepped out of the teashop with two cups of coffee in her hands, she moved carefully into the snow so to not spill them, as she often did with hot drinks. She mentally patted herself on the back for thinking to buy a few chocolate biscuits for her and Master Belby, which were tucked under her arm in a small brown bag. But as she walked out onto the sidewalk, she saw green smoke billowing in the distance and realized it was coming from the street the apothecary was on. Panic squeezed her lungs, and she threw the coffee and biscuits to the side before sprinting towards the fire.

She pulled out her wand as she ran and pointed it to the sky. "_Expecto Patronum!" _she shouted. A series of wolves ran into the distance, and she prayed with all her heart that Master Belby was safe.

The apothecary was in flames. Rowan saw the roaring green fire and was seized with terror. All of the memories of the night Edgar died came rushing back, and she nearly lost her footing in the moment of nausea. Ministry fire officials and Healers were rushing onto the scene, but she knew that it would require serious magic to put out that fire.

"_Master Belby!" _she shouted. She couldn't spot him anywhere in the crowd, and terror settled into her blood. Before she could think, she'd rushed forward for the door but was pulled back violently by a red-robed official.

"Miss, you can't go in there!" he cried disbelievingly.

She kept pulling, desperate, hysterical. "My master in there! _Somebody has to save him!" _she screamed. She yanked her hand from his grasp and threw the door open.

The heat was overwhelming, and she felt her stomach hit her throat sickeningly as her body responded to the familiar burning. She summoned another Patronus, which formed a silvery field around her, pushing the flames out, and she ran inside of the shop.

"_Master Belby!" _she screamed, looking around desperately. She saw a Death Eater lying listlessly on the floor beneath a broken shelf then ran towards the stairs. She choked at the sight of Alexander's limp body on the ground but pushed the horror back to keep going. The heat was overwhelming, even with the Patronus' protection, and she felt sweat dripping down her back. Her arm stung at the proximity to the cursed fire. As she approached the stairs, she heard shouting from below.

"DELACROIX!" a rough voice shouted.

"MASTER BELBY, I'M HERE!" she screamed over the roaring flames, but just as she was about to take a step onto the stairs, a piece of it crumbled away. Her throat constricted and she couldn't move from the fear. How was she supposed to get him out of there?

She saw the silvery wolf in front of her begin to flicker, and the panic seized her again, but just as she'd lifted her arm to conjure another, she felt an arm yank her back by the shoulder. Her feet suddenly left the ground and an arm was digging into her stomach painfully. She realized with horror that she was being dragged from the shop.

"NO!" she screamed. "MASTER BELBY IS STILL IN THERE! LET ME GO!" She flailed and kicked as hard as she could, but her captor remained firm, running out the door and into the cold. A trio of men ran in past them. She recognized the rapid clunking of a wooden leg as belonging to Alastor Moody. Her screaming increased, wanting desperately to help her comrade.

As their lungs hit the cold air, they both collapsed to the ground. Rowan kicked and punched at the man who had pulled her from the fire.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? MASTER BELBY IS STILL IN THERE! I HAVE TO SAVE HIM!" she cried hysterically, beating at her captor's chest. Tears were streaming down her face.

All she could think about was the burning green flames and her master trapped in the basement. What if he got hurt? She couldn't let him get burn like she did! Why was this man keeping her from him?

He grabbed her wrists and wrestled her down. "Rowan! _Rowan!"_ he shouted. "Rowan, you have to stop!"

But she kept fighting him. "_You don't understand!"_ she cried. "_He's hurt! I need to help him! I need to save him! Everything that I've worked for!"_ she screamed desperately, twisting her body violently and thrashing wildly.

Suddenly, there was a gasp from the crowd as two bodies burst from the window. One was Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the other was the collapsed Death Eater from the floor. Another man burst from the window with a large box of burning material – Fabian Prewett. The contents of the box spilled over as he collapsed on the ground, green flames trickling over them. He pulled off his dragon hide coat and stamped the fire out quickly, though some of the material was burnt.

But where was Moody?

An explosion burst from the shop, shattering what remained of the windows. Fabian and Kingsley threw themselves to the ground, narrowly dodging the flames. With the explosion came two more men flying through the door, crashing to the ground. Both were covered in green flames.

Belby was screaming.

Rowan took the opportunity to push her restrainer off and scrambled towards her master. She yanked off Moody's burning coat, luckily also dragon hide, and he scrambled away from it as fast as he could. She then wildly grabbed for Fabian's from his hands, covering Belby in the jacket and stamping out every inch she could reach. But he continued to scream.

As she tore the coat away from him, she saw that half of his face had been burnt away, chunks of his hair singed off and missing. His ear and part of his nose were gone. A large portion of his robes had been cooked into his skin. The flesh was raw and red and smelled like burning meat, and she could see his tendons where the skin had been burnt away completely. An overwhelming wave of nausea hit her, and she gasped, trying not to vomit. The sounds of his screaming shook her to the core, and her head swam as she felt the earth beneath her shift.

He continued to scream and writhe in agony, and she suddenly felt herself being pulled away again as a group of Healers rushed forward to help the Potions Master. Instead of fight this time though, she could only watch in terror as the men in white levitated her master up from the ground and onto a stretcher. He continued to scream. The shrill sound was horrifying – it didn't sound like him at all. She barely recognized his gnarled, burnt form. _How had this happened to him? Why?_

"Rowan! _Rowan!_" the man was shaking her again, and she had to refocus her gaze before looking up at him. It was Remus.

"Rowan, we have to get you out of here," he said fiercely. His eyes pierced her, and she suddenly felt incredibly weak.

"But," she protested weakly. "Master Belby… I have to go see him. He needs me!" she cried. She felt a fresh wave of tears spill over.

"No, I need to take you home!" he fought back angrily.

"Remus, you don't understand!" she argued, trying to push away from him, but he stood firmly. "I have to go to him! _Please!"_

Remus had opened his mouth to keep arguing, but a hand clapped on his shoulder roughly.

"Let her go, Remus. She needs to be with her master," Kingsley said to him gravely. "We'll take the Death Eater to the Ministry for questioning and the box back to Headquarters. She can get it there later."

Remus' mouth tightened in a serious line. He looked angry, but he didn't say anything and nodded slowly. He turned back to Rowan. "Come on," he said softly.

He took her hand and pulled her out of the crowd. Once they'd managed to get enough space, he pulled her against him possessively and looked down at her, grief stricken across his face, before Disapparating for St. Mungo's.


	18. Of Timeless Devotion

**A/N**: This is a very long chapter, but I couldn't figure out a way to break it into two chapters. It's sad… This entire story is just sad…

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 18: Of Timeless Devotion **

Rowan sat by Damocles Belby's bed as soon as she was permitted to. He'd undergone extensive operations as soon as he'd arrived at St. Mungo's, and though the Healers had worked hours on him, they informed her that the damage done to his respiratory system and nervous system had been too severe – he probably wouldn't survive through the week.

Kingsley had sent her word that the Death Eater they'd arrested was named Igor Karkaroff, a foreign wizard from Bulgaria. While being questioned, he'd admitted that he had come with an accomplice, who had escaped in the mayhem but was responsible for the fire. Although he seemed to be talking, Karkaroff wouldn't release any names yet without being offered a deal, and Rowan was relieved that Kingsley and Moody weren't taking it. The pure anger and hatred that Rowan felt shook her body, and she had never been filled with such a desire to hurt someone. She suddenly understood the darkness that she had seen in Remus with great bitterness.

But she stayed by Belby's side, wavering between staring listlessly at his broken form and half-sleep – she didn't know how long she'd been there. Had it been hours or days? His entire body was covered in bandages, and her eyes stung with hot tears as her eyes scanned over where large parts of the left side of his face were suddenly missing.

She held his good hand throughout the night and slept next to him with her head rested on the mattress. She dreamt of green fire and melted snow.

* * *

When she woke the next morning, her hands still clung to his. She sat up and looked at his face, then jerked when she saw that his good eye was cracked open slightly.

"Master Belby!" she cried. She wanted to crow with joy, but it was dampened at the slowness of his gaze. His focus shifted slowly, painfully, and she could tell that it took him great effort to even move his gaze towards her. Her throat felt tight.

"Master Belby," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't save you," she apologized. The tears began to fall again.

"All of your work!" she sobbed. "Fabian could only save one box. After everything we did… After all that you've done, how could this…" she trailed off, unable to continue. She gripped his hand tightly.

When he squeezed her hand back, she looked back up at him and saw a shining glimmer at the corner of his eye. He squeezed her hand again, and she stared at him disbelievingly. Damocles Belby was crying. She felt her tears fall as well, horrified and ashamed. How had things turned out this way?

He breathed hard, as if trying to speak but was unable and squeezed her hand tighter. A sob threatened to tear from her lungs. The tear began to roll down his face, and she saw the strange silvery light it emitted and was struck with understanding.

She tore her hands from his and groped around her coat pocket, pulling out an empty vial. She stood and held the lip to his cheek, and the tear pooled into it. Another few tears streaked down his face like liquid silver, and she carefully pulled the vial away and corked it.

She gazed at the vial in her hands, which glowed brightly, and then looked back to Belby, who had closed his eyes again. He breathed deeply, wheezing, and she was overcome with bittersweet affection for the man. She reached down to squeeze his hand again, and he squeezed back lightly. Within a few minutes, he had fallen back asleep.

When she knew that he was resting soundly, she slipped her hand from his and pulled her coat on, but just as she reached the door, it swung open. Remus stood there wide-eyed and startled.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I need a Pensieve!" she declared fiercely.

His mouth took on a taut line. "We have to see Dumbledore," he said quietly before taking her hand in his and leading her out of the room.

* * *

Rowan gazed up at Hogwarts with a deep longing ache. She hadn't returned to the castle since they'd graduated, and all of her memories there came rushing back at just the sight of it. Remus had Apparated them to Hogsmeade and then sent a Patronus ahead of them to inform Professor Dumbledore that they were coming. As they walked up the path to the castle, he gripped her hand tightly, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it.

When they reached the castle, Professor McGonagall was at the entrance waiting for them. Her mouth was a firm line, but her eyes were full of grief.

"Delacroix, I'm so sorry to hear what happened," she said emphatically.

Rowan nodded in acknowledgement and thanked her old Head of House for her kind words. McGonagall then led them up to Professor Dumbledore's office.

When they reached the gargoyle in the Headmaster's Tower, she muttered, "Sassafras," and the statue leapt to the side, revealing a spiral staircase.

When they reached the top, Rowan marveled at the wondrous circular room. In all the years that she'd been at Hogwarts, the Headmaster's office still remained the most fantastic room, and she regretted slightly that she hadn't gotten into enough trouble to be sent there more often.

As she gazed around the room, she saw a stone basin with intricate runes carved into it set in a cabinet against the wall, already open. She recognized it as the Pensieve that Remus had mentioned.

Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, which was covered in intricate shiny instruments, and she felt great relief at just the sight of the old wizard. There was something so safe, so reassuring about this man. She couldn't believe that anyone would ever gaze at him without something along the lines of adoration and security.

"Rowan, Remus, so good to see you," he said softly. "I'm so terribly sorry to hear what has happened to Damocles. I am planning on going to see him later this evening," he said sadly.

Rowan smiled sadly. "Thank you, Professor. I'm sure he'll appreciate it," she said. Remus squeezed her hand.

Dumbledore nodded. "So Remus says you need to use my Pensieve," he said. He gestured to the instrument and stood calmly from his desk. "You are most welcome to it. I will show you how it works, and then I'll leave you to your privacy," he said, walking over to the basin.

Rowan and Remus followed him over. She handed him the vial of Belby's memories, which he poured into the basin. They swirled slowly in a silvery haze, and she thought she might be hypnotized by it.

"All you need to do is lean into the memory, and the Pensieve will do the rest!" he said lightly. "And now, I will leave you to it." He looked to Remus, who squeezed Rowan's hand and gave her a burning look but then left with the Headmaster. When she heard the door at the bottom of the spiral staircase shut, she turned back to the basin.

The memories swirled slowly, soothingly. She stuck her finger in experimentally. She'd expected it to be wet, but it was cool and gaseous and had no further effect on her.

_Lean into it_.

She leaned forward over the basin, lower, lower, until her face hovered above the silver gas. With a deep breath, she lowered her nose into the silvery swirl and felt herself being sucked forward, turning, twisting, falling into Damocles Belby's past.

* * *

Rowan found herself in the laboratory. Besides the area that had been made her workspace, the room looked exactly the same. She saw Belby sitting at his desk, scribbling into a notebook. His hair was darker, thicker than it was now. There weren't any tired lines set into his face, and the scowl that she had grown accustomed to wasn't there either. He looked so much younger than she'd ever seen him and kinder. He looked to be about thirty, possibly even younger.

She heard the chiming of the front door, but Alexander's voice was missing.

"Hello?" a voice called out. It was female.

"Down here!" he called up. His voice was rough but held none of the harshness to it that she'd always heard from him. It sounded warm, comforting almost. What had happened to him that made him change so drastically?

A young woman stepped down the stairs hesitantly. Rowan saw dark rings beneath her eyes, and her cheeks looked sunken. Her clothes, though well-kept, were old and worn out. She had a long red scar running down her neck, and Rowan suddenly understood.

"Please, have a seat," Belby gestured towards an empty chair at the end of his desk. She moved forward, still nervous, and sat down quietly, feet drawn beneath the seat and hands fidgeting at her lap.

She looked harder at the woman's face as she sat. She was blonde and petite, though the lines in her features made her look tired and older than she probably was. She had a heart-shaped face with a small mouth and round eyes that looked much too large for her thin face. Her hair was pulled back modestly and had a few streaks of silvery white in it. She was very pretty.

"Ms. Acina, right?" he said, assessing her briefly before turning back to his notes.

"Marie is fine, sir," she said quietly.

Belby nodded vaguely. "Please, just call me Damocles," he said calmly. His voice wasn't very expressive, but it was warm. She marveled at how different he was.

"So why is it that you're willing to take on this position? It's not exactly safe, particularly for such a young woman," he said, eyeing her cautiously.

Marie seemed to be turning her thoughts through her head. "Well, to be honest, I need the money, sir – uh, Damocles," she said weakly.

He nodded and then looked harder at her. "But a potions tester is quite a risky job. Don't you think it'd be more appropriate to find work elsewhere? A young woman like you could easily find a job that poses less of a threat to your health," he said seriously.

She grimaced and seemed to be lost in thought again. "I can't find another job," she admitted softly, shame writing across her features. "I'm… I'm a werewolf, you see. No one will hire me," she said quietly, looking down at her hands with her voice trembling.

Belby's eyes widened with understanding. He looked her over carefully with some fear in his eyes. He leaned back slightly as if afraid that her condition was contagious, and she bowed her head with embarrassment.

But then his eyes softened and he leaned forward again slowly. "How old are you?" he asked softly.

Her head jerked up with surprise. Her mouth gaped at him, and she looked at him like he was a ghost. He smiled gently at her. Her lip quivered.

"I'm twenty-one, sir," she said weakly.

He nodded. "I'm assuming you weren't able to attend Hogwarts. Do you know any magic?" he asked. "Have a wand?"

She nodded fervently. "My parents taught me as much as they could. I have my mum's old wand," she said quickly, as if the spell would be broken if she gave him too much time to change his mind.

Belby smiled. "Alright, you can have the job. You can also manage my shop part time. It's a simple job, and I won't be able to pay you much, but it's something," he said softy.

Marie's eyes filled with tears, and she wiped furiously at them. She looked back up at him with fire in her eyes, and she suddenly looked much younger. "Thank you so much, sir! I promise you won't regret it. I swear I won't burden you. Thank you so much!" she rambled, flooding with gratitude.

Belby laughed lightly. "I'm sure you will. And again, Damocles is fine," he said, standing.

She stood with him, shaking his hand furiously with raw gratitude, and he guided her back to the stairs. They walked back up to the shop together, and as Rowan heard him opening the door for Marie, the memory faded away into another.

* * *

She was standing in the shop. Marie was perched in a seat at the counter, but what surprised Rowan was that Belby was also seated at the counter, talking softly with her. There was a potions book open in front of them, and he was gesturing to a diagram in it, explaining it to her. She looked enthralled by it, excitement dancing in her eyes. She looked back and forth between the book and Belby with an expression of wonder and awe on her features.

Belby, in turn, spoke fervently about the book's contents. He gesticulated animatedly, his voice undulating more than Rowan had thought was possible for the usually monotonous man. He smiled warmly at the blonde woman beside him. Between them, there was a large bar of chocolate lying out on its unfolded metal wrapper, a few pieces missing.

Marie's hair was pulled back loosely from her face, and Rowan noted that there was a new scar that ran right above her left eyebrow. But she looked happy, and her skin seemed to glow with it. Rowan noticed the light blush that would dust her cheeks whenever Belby would look at her intensely. She obviously adored him.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and the bell rang. Marie looked up brightly and smiled at the large man who appeared in the doorway.

"Welcome!" she said. Her voice sounded much brighter and stronger than it had in the previous memory. "Can I help you with anything today?"

The man beamed at the young woman. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a heavy brow and a rosy, squared face.

"I was wondering if you carried any garden gnome repellant. I've got a terrible infestation, and the missus said she'd tear my head off if I didn't do something about it soon," he said jovially. Marie smiled broadly and stood, moving around the counter and leading the man to a far-off shelf.

Rowan looked back at Belby and was shocked at the expression on his face. He was gazing at Marie with the gentlest look she'd ever seen on him. It was yearning, hungry almost. She recognized it as the same look Remus used to aim at her with a dull ache of sadness. Belby was in love with this girl.

Suddenly, she heard a yelp and looked back at Marie and the large man. He had grabbed her roughly by the upper arm, eyes scanning furiously over her face. Rowan instinctively moved towards them and shouted at him angrily but realized dumbly that she was in a memory. He reached up and grabbed Marie's jaw, twisting her face to the side, and Rowan saw his eyes widen angrily at the scar that ran up her neck.

"_A werewolf!_" he shouted, pushing Marie back so that she stumbled into the shelf behind her. She crumpled to the ground and gasped with panic, twisting around quickly to steady the shelf as the bottles clinked dangerously against each other.

"_You've hired a werewolf!"_ the man shouted at Belby. "_What is wrong with you? Are you trying to kill all of us?"_ he accused angrily.

Belby had jumped to his feet the moment the large man had grabbed Marie and was already in the man's face with his wand.

"She's not dangerous!" he shouted at the larger man. "Just look at her! She's just a girl! _Apologize to her now!"_

The large man roared with anger and shoved Belby away from him violently. Belby slammed into another cabinet of potions, which crashed to the ground, the glass display windows shattering. Marie screamed with fright.

But just as his attacker had pulled his wand out, Belby shouted, "_Expelliarmus!"_ and the large man was thrown backward, onto the ground. His wand was tossed to the side and skidded towards the door.

Belby scrambled to his feet and ran at the man, jabbing his wand in his face. The large man raised his hands up in defeat. Belby was panting, his hair and robes disheveled.

"Get out," he spat. "You're no longer welcome in my shop." The man on the ground seemed to be frozen. "GET OUT!" he shouted.

The man scrambled to his feet and grabbed his wand on the way out. He ran out the door and didn't look back.

Belby seethed and stared after his lost customer then remembered Marie. He turned quickly and saw the girl, still crumpled on the ground, staring up at him with tears in her eyes. He moved towards her with worry etched across his face.

"Damocles," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never should've let you hire me. Look what I've done to your shop!" she sobbed. Tears were falling from her eyes.

"No," he said firmly, grabbing her hands. "You didn't do anything. You were doing your job. That man did this, not you. None of this is your fault," he said fiercely. His eyes burned into her, and she looked as if she might break.

Her lip trembled. "But it was because of me!" she cried. "You're too kind, too good! I can't stay here, or you'll start losing all of your customers! I have to-" she started but then she looked around her wildly. She pulled her hands from his and frantically started picking up pieces of the broken glass.

"Marie, leave it," he said firmly, but she continued, seemingly deaf to his voice.

"Marie!" he said, beginning to sound angry. His tone suddenly reminded her of the Belby she knew.

Finally, he grabbed her by the wrist, making her drop the glass shards in her hands and pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his.

Her eyes remained wide and scared as he moved his lips against her slowly, but as he reached a hand up to her hair, her eyes fluttered closed, and she kissed him back, hands trembling and knotted at the front of his robes.

When he pulled away, he reached up and cradled her face in his hands. He gazed at her ardently before speaking. "I'm going to find a cure for your disease, and you will _never_ have to go through this again," he whispered. "I promise you. Stay with me."

Marie's chin trembled, and she burst into tears again. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed, great and heaving. He held her to him tightly and rocked her gently. As Rowan watched them seated together in the middle of the broken glass, her chest ached sharply as she thought of Remus, and she was sucked out the memory again.

* * *

When the memory solidified, Rowan didn't know where she was. She stood in a house she didn't recognize, in a room that reminded her of her own home's drawing room with old leather chairs and a large fireplace. Belby stood in front of an older man, who was seated in a large chair. She saw the resemblance between the two and guessed that the older man was his father. Both were bristling with rage, and as the volume suddenly came into focus, her ears were filled with deafening shouts.

"Stop talking nonsense!" the older man shouted at Damocles. "Seriously, _a werewolf?_ What the hell is the matter with you, boy?" he boomed. "You will ruin us with your stupidity! Just have your way with the Halfbreed whore and move on!"

Belby's eyes flared with anger. "You can't speak about her that way! I love her, and I'm going to marry her whether you like it or not!" he shouted. His face was red, and she saw the vein throb in his forehead.

The older man's face reddened as well, and he stood menacingly, facing off with his son. "If you marry that monster, I will disown you!" he threatened. "I have no need for an ungrateful bastard like you bearing my name, after all that I've done for you! After all the money I've poured into that damned apothecary of yours! _This is how you repay me?"_

"_Disown me then!"_ Belby shouted at his father. "I don't want anything to do with a family that's so ignorant, so _evil_, that you can't see past all the prejudice to see the woman I'm in love with!"

His father roared with anger. "_Get out of this house!_ GET OUT!" he screamed, throwing a glass into the fireplace. It shattered loudly, and Rowan flinched as she saw a few pieces of broken glass fly.

Belby turned angrily and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The older man continued to scream with rage. Rowan raced after him, moving through the walls to keep up with him. As they reached the foyer, Marie was standing there alone, looking pale and frightened.

"Damocles," she started weakly, but he rushed forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the door.

"We're leaving," he spat angrily. "This entire family can burn in hell for all I care!"

She trembled and stumbled after him as he pulled the door open. As they stepped out onto the front porch, he stopped and looked down at her. Her eyes were wide with fear and searching his face desperately. His expression softened.

"I love you, Marie," he whispered. Her lips trembled. "And if you'll have me then I promise to make you happy. I want you to be my wife," he said fervently.

Her chin trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. But she blinked them away and smiled brightly at him. She nodded jerkily and a small laugh bubbled from her chest. It rang clear and broke through the night. He beamed and held her to him tightly, and as he buried his face in her golden hair, they Disapparated on the spot.

* * *

When Rowan regained her footing, she was no longer in the shop or in a house but in a strange one-roomed hut. She looked outside and saw that they were in a forest that she didn't recognize. It was dense, though she could see through the tops of the trees that it was nearly dark. The walls were covered in ancient runes and protective spells that she'd never seen before. She turned back to the couple before her and saw that Marie was completely naked and on the verge of tears. There were crumpled white flowers scattered at their feet.

"Damocles, this is a terrible idea," she said desperately. "You don't know if this will work! You need to leave right now!" she said beseechingly.

But Belby remained in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders with excitement.

"No, this is going to work! All of the trials before now have been perfect. This is going to work! You have to believe me!" he whispered heatedly to her, but Marie lowered her head and shook it violently. Rowan saw a few tears fall to the floor.

"Damocles, _please_," she begged. "You have to leave now! _Please!" _She was sobbing now, and a terrible sense of dread filled Rowan's stomach.

But as Belby was about to answer her, Rowan saw the full moon break through the window. Marie's entire body seemed to seize, and Belby stepped away from her cautiously. Rowan watched with horror as Marie's eyes dilated, then her teeth began to elongate irregularly. She let out a pained cry that hollowed out and deepened hauntingly. Her face stretched and distorted, and her vertebrae seemed to twist and pop, arching and stretching beneath her skin. Belby's eyes widened with fear.

But then the twisting stopped, and Marie's disturbing moaning ceased. Rowan thought for a moment that the memory had stopped, but then she saw Belby move.

"Marie," he whispered. "Marie, it's working!" he breathed. His eyes were wide with elation.

But then the grotesque twisting continued. Her limbs stretched and hair began to burst from her skin. The moaning deepened into a blood-curdling shriek, and Rowan finally saw Marie transform into a full lycanthrope.

Panic seized Rowan and she turned frantically to Belby, who seemed to be frozen to the spot.

"Run!" she shouted at him but realized again that she was in a memory. Belby moved slowly towards the door, eyes never leaving Marie, who had also kept her focus on the thin wizard. She didn't move, however, and Rowan thought he might just be able to escape unscathed when Marie roared and leapt at him.

Belby screamed and flung the door open, hitting Marie in the face before running out and slamming it behind him. He held it shut, pushing his body up against the surface. The charms on the house seemed to hold Marie in, for she threw herself at the walls and windows to no avail – she was trapped.

But just as Belby had taken a moment to breathe with relief, a window shattered, and the blood drained from his face. Marie was clawing her way out of the hut, glass shards scratching her face and tangling in her fur. Belby took off sprinting into the woods.

Panting hard, he sprinted as fast as he could and looked around frantically for a place to hide, a place to climb. Rowan watched the young version of her Potions Master with horrified disbelief – how could this foolish man really be Master Belby? How had been so arrogant to think that his first experiment with a human subject would be successful? Had he not even considered a backup plan?

But as he spun around, Marie burst from the trees and rushed at him. He dodged, but one of her claws caught him in the side. He cried out in pain and held his wand out towards her. They circled each other, Marie growling lowly. But then she leapt at him again, and he threw a shot of red light at her.

"_Stupefy!"_ he shouted. Marie whimpered at the hit and Belby took the opportunity to run.

He ran and ran, gasping for breath, until he saw a clearing – a field of white flowers. Just as he was about to make it out of the woods, however, Marie came charging up behind him.

He ducked as she soared over his head, landing somewhat ungracefully a good distance beyond him, roaring. They circled each other again, and Rowan couldn't breathe as she watched them.

"Marie, please!" Belby called out desperately, but the werewolf's face showed no recognition. She growled, and Rowan could see the hysteria in Belby.

Marie then charged at him again, and Rowan could see by his labored movements that he wouldn't be able to dodge her again. She squeezed her eyes shut with terror.

"STUPEFY!"

She heard a blast followed by a sharp yelp of pain and a horrifying crunch. Rowan opened her eyes slowly and saw Belby, wide-eyed and pale but unharmed. She turned, and the sight sent a wave of nausea through her.

The werewolf was impaled on a short branch from a tree at the edge of the field, red blood dripping down the end of the branch. She whimpered pathetically and wriggled weakly against the trunk but was unable to get herself free.

Belby moved towards the tree, staggering drunkenly as if his knees had locked. He stood next to the werewolf as she struggled, watching with open-mouthed horror. As she lost strength, the field began to glow faintly, a haunting light emitted from the white flowers. Rowan saw her features begin to distort again. The hair fell away and the bones shrank beneath the skin, popping sickeningly back into place. In a few moments, the werewolf was gone, and Marie – blonde, frail, and naked – stood in its place. Her entire body trembled against the tree, and all of the color had left her face. Blood stained her stomach and hands.

Belby fell forward, panicking.

"Darling, just hold still. Hold still. Hold still!" he rambled. "I'll get you out. I promise! I'll get you out!"

Marie gasped shakily for breath, and Rowan could hear the wheezing – there was blood in her lungs.

Belby was still rambling madly, moving around the branch of the tree, searching desperately for a way to remove her from it. "Darling, I'm so sorry. We'll get you out, and then we'll go home. We're going to go home, so just hold still. We're going to go home!" His hands were trembling like mad, and his legs seemed to be ready to collapse at any moment.

Marie laid a calm hand on Belby's face. He jerked up to look at her, and she smiled gently. She coughed slightly, and a thin line of blood trickled from her mouth and down her chin.

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's all okay." She looked up at the moon, and her round eyes glowed. The lines in her young face seemed to melt away. "I finally… I finally got to see the full moon," she whispered.

Belby's entire body was shaking. Tears spilled from his eyes, mixing with the blood that had stained his cheeks from her hand, and his breath came in short gasps.

Marie looked back down at him, still smiling serenely but eyes drooping. "I love you, Damocles. I love you so very much," she whispered. Her head began to loll.

He grasped her hands, groping for her fingers. "I love you, Marie. I love you. I love you! Don't leave me. _Don't leave me,_" he rambled with panic. His hands held her face desperately, pushing her hair back.

She smiled weakly at him, but her head rolled forward, and her arms sagged. "Thank you," she breathed, "I…"

Rowan saw the last breath leave Marie's lips. Belby took Marie's face with trembling hands and cradled her against him. His tears flowed freely, and his breath came in heaving gasps. His entire body shook as he held her, and the wailing sob that left him sounded otherworldly.

As Rowan felt herself being sucked out of the memory, the white field of flowers glowed ethereally and Rowan noted them with numbed awe – _Bakony Lunar Flowers._

* * *

Finally, Rowan found herself in an ornate room filled with dark mahogany furniture and noted with shock that it was her father's old Ministry office. She gazed around it and took in the familiarity of it all. She looked to the desk and saw her father – hair slightly darker, but still impeccably dressed and handsome – and Belby seated across from him, looking tired and broken.

"I'm sorry, Belby, but this might be out of my hands," Richard said seriously. "Transporting a werewolf body across international borders is serious business. I'm amazed you were able to get her there to begin with," he said gravely.

Belby stared at his hands but said nothing. Richard assessed the man across from him, and she could see the thoughts racing through his head.

"Please," Belby whispered. It frightened her – she had _never_ heard her master plead for anything, not like this. "I'll do anything. Just let me bring her home," he begged quietly.

Richard sighed and assessed the man across from him, twirling a pen in his hands. Rowan saw his eyebrows furrow in thought.

"What do you plan on doing with her body if you bring her back?" he asked.

Belby looked up at him then averted his gaze again and shifted. "She said she wanted to be cremated and then have her ashes released into the wind... in the north where she was born," he responded softly.

Richard nodded but continued to look at Belby in the same concentrated way. Belby kept his gaze averted. They sat in silence for a good amount of time, and Rowan wondered vaguely if the memory would end like this.

"Fine," Richard said. Belby's head shot up with wide eyes, daring not to believe it. "I can't make any guarantees, but I have a few Hungarian connections I can call. I'll see what I can do," he said gruffly.

Belby shot to his feet and grabbed Richard's hand, shaking it jerkily. "Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Delacroix! I am eternally in your debt! Thank you," he said, his voice trembling. Rowan saw his eyes were bright with tears.

Richard shifted uncomfortably at the other man's display of emotion and pulled his hand awkwardly from the handshake. Rowan watched her father with gratitude and adoration as she was pulled from the memory and felt herself spinning and flying.

* * *

She once again found herself in Dumbledore's office and was about to run to the staircase to find the Headmaster and Remus when she realized the older wizard was already sitting at his desk.

"Professor," she called. "I'm done with the Pensieve. I…" she trailed off. Dumbledore hadn't looked at her once and was reading over a letter in his hands.

"Professor!" she called again, but he didn't respond. Just as she was about to open her mouth again, there was a slamming of a door and the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned, expecting to see Remus, but instead saw Belby quickly approaching the desk. She realized that she was still in a memory.

He wore the same dark wine-colored robes that he'd been in the evening they'd met in November of her Seventh Year. After seeing him so young in his previous memories, he suddenly looked very old, very angry. His face wore the heavy scowl that she'd equated with his presence for so long, but now it seemed very foreign and odd.

"Well, I'm here, Dumbledore," he growled at the Headmaster. He assessed the older man coolly, "Though I'm not quite sure why. Do you really expect me to like this girl?" He glowered, still standing in front of Dumbledore's desk.

The bearded wizard placed the letter down on his desk and smiled up at Belby. "Rowan, you mean?" he corrected kindly. Belby made no sign of recognition but continued to glare. "She's an interesting girl, don't you think? Are you really not going to meet her when she specifically sought you out?" he asked slowly.

Belby snorted. "She's a fool!" he declared defiantly. "That stupid girl is going to get herself hurt and risk her entire livelihood for _this?_ Is she mad?" he ranted.

Dumbledore nodded his head and took in his friend's words. "Do you think her reasons are really so far from yours?" he asked quietly. "I think you're afraid because you might see too much of yourself in her," he suggested wisely.

"Of course I am!" Belby exclaimed. Fear flashed across his face for a brief moment. "How can I let someone like her… She's so young! I can't… What if something were to happen to her under my care? I can't have her well-being on my conscience! I will _not_ take responsibility for her!" he shouted. His eyes were looking frantically all over the room, as if searching for some answers.

"She's not Marie, Damocles," Dumbledore said.

Belby looked at him with wide-eyes. They were full of fear.

"She's not Marie," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Rowan knows what she is getting herself into, and if there is anyone who can assist you in your work, it is she," he said confidently but softly. Damocles looked lost, grieving. Dumbledore gazed at him in thought before continuing.

Rowan's heart was filled with shame. Had she known what she was getting herself into, truly? She'd thought she could handle it. Remus had warned her. Belby had warned her. He was terrified for her from the moment Dumbledore spoke her name to the man, and yet in the end, he'd been the one to pay the price for their research. Had the Death Eaters been looking for her there at the apothecary? She wanted to fall to this Belby's feet and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him that she wasn't worth it.

"How about this – give her the rest of the year to prove herself. Set a high bar. Make her continue to research for you and set a standard for her N.E.W.T.s. I'm almost certain that she will rise to the challenge, and it will help give you some peace of mind regarding her abilities and conviction if she passes your test," he suggested.

Damocles considered the older man's words with a dark grimace. The lines in his face seemed much heavier.

"Fine," he finally breathed. "Fine, I will meet with her, but she better be as impressive as you keep saying she is, or I'll eat her alive. Just watch – after talking to me even once, she'll rethink even potion making," he said definitively, bitterly.

Dumbledore smiled, a knowing twinkle in his eyes, and Rowan felt herself flying backward, soaring. The scene in front of her seemed to pull away in an instant. She lost her footing and couldn't find the ground. She was going back.

* * *

"Rowan! _Rowan!_"

Firm hands shook her awake, and she looked up to see Remus and Albus Dumbledore staring down at her. Remus' face was full of panic. She wanted to reach up and touch him. She looked around her blearily and realized she'd collapsed against the Pensieve, now sitting on the floor and propped up against the basin's cabinet.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked, still in a daze.

Remus frowned. "We left you here about half an hour ago. When we came back, you'd collapsed," he said.

She frowned. Thirty minutes? It felt like she'd been gone for days. She reached up to her face and felt wetness there. Had she been crying?

Dumbledore smiled, and responded as if reading her mind. "One's sense of time within a memory is much different from the pace of time outside of it. I'm sure what felt to us like a matter of minutes was probably a great amount of time to you," he said knowingly.

Rowan felt her lips twitch at the Headmaster's words, and she stood slowly, using Remus' arm for support.

"Did you get the answers you needed?" the old wizard asked.

Rowan thought for a moment. "Yeah," she said softly, and it suddenly occurred to her that she had received more answers than she'd even been searching for. "Yeah, I did," she said firmly.

He smiled softly at her, and as they left the castle, Rowan looked back up towards the Headmaster's Tower and wondered how one person could know so much.

* * *

When they Apparated back to St. Mungo's the sun had begun to set. As they entered the hospital, they returned immediately to Belby's room. However, he wasn't there, and Rowan suddenly found herself facing a flustered Fabian Prewett instead, who had been pacing the room anxiously and alone. Dread filled her.

"Rowan," he breathed. His face was pale, and his chin trembled. She knew already what he was going to say.

"He's gone, isn't he?" she whispered.

Fabian's mouth twisted, and he nodded sadly. "I'm so sorry," he said sadly.

Rowan just nodded slowly. She felt Remus squeeze her hand, and she squeezed back. She looked up at him in a daze and saw him gazing down at her, fire in his eyes. She suddenly felt so tired, so exhausted. She moved towards him and leaned into his chest. His arms rose instinctively to hold her. She thought of Damocles Belby and the way he'd held Marie Acina against him in the mountainous forests of Hungary. She remembered how the delicate woman had looked up at the full moon with wonder. Her eyes had looked so much like the glowing field of flowers.


	19. Of Finding Courage in the Darkness

**A/N**: A little bit of Rowan, a little bit of Peter. A little bit of mourning and a little bit of happiness. This might be one of my favorite chapter so far, though I can't figure out why.

Happy Valentine's Day to all of you and to our favorite fictional couple. Know what would be the perfect V-Day gift for me? **A REVIEW!**

Also, have you watched the new season of House of Cards on Netflix. I just started. Kevin Spacey gives me shivers. I love the ruthless pragmatist.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 19: Of Finding Courage in the Darkness**

They didn't hold a funeral service for Damocles Belby. He had only his estranged brother and very few friends, and Rowan imagined that he wouldn't have wanted one anyway. She had his body cremated and took his remains to the small northern town where Rowan had found that Marie Acina was born in. She and Remus stood on a high hill in the cold February morning and released her master's ashes into a strong wind, praying that he would find Marie there.

She also took it upon herself to settle Belby's legal affairs. She and her father sat down with a law official to go over the deeds to his will and was shocked to find that he had left nearly all of his monetary estate to Remus. Remus, who had stayed by her side almost constantly since the fire, was flabbergasted and confused. The two men had interacted only a handful of times, and those interactions had been stiff, at best. Though he certainly wasn't a rich man, Rowan realized that supporting Remus even with the little money he had was probably Belby's own way of making up for the hurt he'd committed against his beloved Marie.

Remus had initially refused all of the money, horrified and ashamed that the man had left him anything when he barely knew him, but Rowan had insisted that it was what Belby wanted. He begrudgingly accepted it after seeing the earnestness in Rowan's eyes, but she knew he was still very displeased with it. She had to admit to herself that the idea that Remus had some money to fall back onto relieved her greatly, though she would never tell him that out loud.

As for the shop, lab, and all of his personal belongings, he left everything to Rowan. She went through his flat after, feeling uncomfortable and invasive, but found that he truly owned very little. He lived almost monastically in a simple apartment with stark furniture and a single photo of Marie by his bedside. The only thing of real value that he had passed onto her was his extensive library on potion making and lycanthropy. She wondered what his home had looked like when Marie had been alive.

Rowan returned to the apothecary a few days after settling Belby's affairs to see the full extent of the damage done. The entire shop was blackened and burnt, and all of the glass bottles that had lined the shelves were either melted or shattered. The stairs leading down to the basement were in burnt shambles, so she couldn't even enter the basement, but she knew she wouldn't find anything worth saving down there anyway. Alexander's body had been burnt completely to ashes, and Rowan wondered sadly if perhaps the bird had joined Belby in the afterlife.

But still, his apartment and the property were hers. She decided to put the apartment up for rent but remained unsure as to what to do with the shop. Though the insurance policy would cover many of the costs that she'd have to pay to fix it, the thought of entering that shop again without her master in it sent a sharp pang of guilt and grief through her. She decided to leave it for the time being while she took the time to mourn.

In the wake of the deaths of so many of her loved ones, Rowan was left reeling. She had lost several comrades, a mother figure, and now her mentor. She sat in her apartment alone for a week after settling everything to consider her next steps.

Now that Belby was gone, she no longer had a job. The box that Fabian had been able to save from the lab had, by some miracle, contained most of the more critical notes and information that they'd discovered, but most of her work was gone. She wasn't a licensed Potions Master and no longer had a teacher. The majority of what she'd been working towards had burned in the fire along with her mentor, and though she knew she could recreate what they'd done, it would require time and energy that she wasn't sure she could muster anymore.

She knew logically that she didn't _have_ to work. Her family was wealthy enough to support her comfortably until the day she died, but the lack of purpose left her feeling empty, and the promise that she'd made to Remus all those years ago still resonated freshly in her heart. She needed to do something, to be able to work with her hands, but she didn't know where to start. Where would she even find the space to begin researching again? Could she do it alone? She knew this would be the ideal time to dedicate herself to the Order, but after considering everything the war had taken from her already, she suddenly felt very bitter.

For days, Rowan considered the memories that Belby had shown her and why he'd chosen to give them to her. She supposed they explained the reasons that she'd questioned for so long, of why he'd dedicated his life to finding a cure for such a condition, and she was honored and moved that he'd use his last moments to give her such precious memories. And they were _so_ precious, something to be polished and cherished. She wondered if the day would ever come when she would feel the need to share her memories of Remus with someone else.

But one thing she couldn't wrap her head around was why Belby and Marie had been in the mountains of Hungary, of all places, the night she'd died. She remembered the broken white flowers scattered by their feet in that desolate hut and the glowing field. Had he been there thinking that they could heal her? They had never used Bakony Lunar Flowers in their research, in any of their potions – had he found them inconclusive? There was very little research done on them surprisingly – she would've thought that witches and wizards would jump at the chance to study such beautiful plants. She couldn't shake the image from her mind. She desperately wanted to see the field of light, to watch the blossoms glow with her own eyes.

Rowan looked out of the window and saw that the snow had finally begun to melt. Everything looked very wet and dull, and she thought of Damocles Belby's gray eyes as his silvery memories slipped from them.

* * *

Rowan looked about her anxiously. The Marauders had dragged her out for the night for drinks, as they'd all been very worried about her. She was very grateful for her friends' concern, but it still irked her to be surrounded by so much noise when the voices in her head were already so loud. She swirled the glass of firewhiskey in her hand but didn't drink much from it. The ice had begun to melt, diluting the liquid to a light amber. It was such a warm color.

The boys had taken it upon themselves to act as normally as possible, and Rowan could almost believe that they were just out for any regular night at the pub. Mina was telling a story about how mad Moody had gotten at Sirius earlier that week for completely disrupting a basic drill by tripping over his robes and tearing down the entire Auror training camp, and the boys were laughing maniacally at him. Even Remus looked at ease, and Rowan watched him fondly with a bittersweet feeling.

He had devotedly stayed by her side throughout the entire ordeal, even when she'd withdrawn into her cave to consider her options. He didn't push her to talk to him but came and went quietly, making sure that she ate and took care of herself. He often chose to just sit with her in the silence, and she appreciated his patience with her. She remembered dully that he still had a key to her flat and wondered if she should ask for it back. Would it be right after all that he'd done for her?

But she knew that she couldn't ask for it back, even if it was inappropriate for her ex-boyfriend to still have free access to her space. She still had his key as well, after all. Even if their relationship was over - even though life's cruel circumstances wouldn't allow them to be together - she knew that the gravity of their experiences would always keep them tied to each other. She was beginning to come to terms with the fact that they would continue this strange dance, probably forever. It was slightly comforting to know that he'd always be there, and yet the dull ache remained.

As she watched him laugh along with their friends, she found it hard to imagine how he could've been so cold just a month before. There were no indications of the darkness that she'd seen in him, and she wondered if it were perhaps all a dream. He was so warm, so kind again. How could she have ever thought him cold?

The tension that had existed between him and the Order members still remained, however, and she'd felt extremely uncomfortable in the few occasions that they'd run into their comrades together. And though he and their friends had seemingly reconciled, she could still see the uneasy glances they'd shoot his way occasionally. It made her chest constrict with anxiety. Were those dark thoughts still there, bubbling beneath the surface? Were they afraid of him?

Lily and Mina stood to use the powder room, and Rowan took the opportunity to go outside for a moment. She needed some air.

* * *

As she sat outside in the cold, she swirled her drink in her hands. She saw the white light above her, a waning half moon. She held her glass up to it and let the light shine through, and she thought again about the glowing flowers in Belby's memory.

Suddenly, she heard the door of the pub swing open, the loud volume from inside magnifying for a moment before fading away as the door closed. She looked up expecting to see Remus with his concerned face but instead saw Peter. He looked just as confused as she was to be out there.

"Hey, Winnie," he said nervously. "Do you mind if I sit with you a bit? It's pretty loud in there," he said.

She smiled gently and scooted over to offer more of the bench to him. He sat down with a sigh and fidgeted nervously. Rowan smiled knowingly at him and marveled at how he could still be so awkward around her after knowing her for so long.

"Pete, relax. I thought I was supposed to be the anxious one tonight," she teased warmly.

He looked up at her and blushed slightly but smiled sheepishly. She smiled back – he was such a nice boy. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments before he spoke again.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Rowan took a deep breath. "I don't know, honestly," she said slowly. "I'm okay, I guess. I just don't really know what to do with myself right now, you know?" she breathed, staring up at the sky. It seemed endless, and she felt very small.

Peter nodded and assessed her quietly. "Do you think you'll be coming back to the Order soon?" he inquired.

Rowan frowned and looked down at her drink. It looked so different against the dark color of her trousers compared to the light of the sky.

"Yeah," she said softly, sadly. "I don't want to, but I have to," she admitted softly.

Peter's face scrunched up in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Rowan looked over at him. His beady eyes were looking at her with so much concern, and she realized how little she knew about him. He was always such a nervous boy and was still a nervous man. In all the years she'd known him, she had spoken to him very little compared to the rest of the group. He was a couple of inches taller than her, but he seemed very small for some reason.

She smiled sadly. "I just have to," she replied. "I'm really scared," she admitted. His eyes widened at her confession. "I hate it, but after how far I've come, I wouldn't be able to look at myself if I turned back now, you know? I feel like it'd be an insult to Edgar and Belby."

"You're scared?" he asked, disbelievingly.

She smiled wryly at him. "Of course, I'm scared," she said matter-of-factly. "I think everyone is. My arm hurts all the time still. I'm fucking _terrified_ of going out and fighting again." Her lip trembled, and Peter focused on the small movement with fear in his eyes.

"But I have to do it," she whispered. Peter thought that it was more to herself than to him, and she'd never seemed so human, so delicate before. He'd always seen her as a strong wind, a force of unwavering conviction. "I have to. I'll never be able to face my parents or any of you if I quit now, right?" she said with forced determination.

She turned and smiled at him, the old spark that he knew in her flickering dimly, but still there.

"I'm scared too," he admitted. Her gaze softened at him. "I want to quit all the time, but I have no idea how," he whispered. He couldn't believe that he was confessing this to her. Wouldn't she be ashamed of him? She'd just said that she would keep fighting after all that she'd been through, and yet he was telling her how cowardly he was! What was wrong with him?

Rowan smiled gently, and he felt like her light was spilling into his throat, smothering him. "It's hard," she whispered. "Our friends are so brave, and it's hard to put up a front and act like you feel the same way," she said. His eyes widened in awe.

"But you're braver than you think," she said fiercely, and the fire was back in her eyes. The heat overwhelmed him. He realized dimly that he was barely breathing. "You've kept fighting even though you're scared. Isn't that proof enough that you have more courage than you give yourself credit for?" she asked fervently.

Peter was overcome. She was gazing at him with such a burning fire. No one had ever looked at him that way – not Maria, not his mother, not his mates. He understood suddenly why Remus always came back to her no matter how many times he'd pushed her away – he would go to the ends of the earth to have someone look at him like that again. He wanted to tell her that she was brave too, that she _made_ him feel brave.

But then the door swung open again, and they both jerked up, peering over to the entrance. Remus was standing there looking at them with a confused frown. Peter looked back at Rowan and saw that burning look in her eyes again, but it wasn't focused at him – it was fixed on Remus. He was startled by the envy that sprang to his throat.

Remus walked over to them, and as he approached, Rowan smiled gently at him. It was different from the way she had looked at Peter, and he saw a yearning there that made his chest ache.

"It's cold out here. You two will get sick if you don't come back inside soon," he said warmly. He held his hand out, and Rowan took it gently, smiling up at her former boyfriend as she stood. Peter felt warm just watching them and wondered at how they could stand to be apart when they obviously still loved each other. He felt a strange sadness at the thought.

But then Rowan's gaze was back on him, and he felt his face redden at the bright grin that was stretched across her lips.

"Ready?" she asked happily. Her light seemed to magnify in Remus' presence.

He nodded slowly and stood, following them inside. He saw Remus' hand hover over her waist as they moved back to the table, not touching her but clearly marking that she was his. Peter watched Remus' face as he looked at her when she wasn't paying attention and was struck by the hunger there. They suddenly seemed much more beautiful than Mina and Sirius had ever been. He had to look away, afraid that if he stared too long, he would be blinded by their light.


	20. Of Knowing One's Place

**A/N**: Hi everyone, I'm going to be slowing down with the updates. I realized I'm putting too much effort into writing this silly thing, just objectively. I'm going to take the time to reevaluate where I'm going with the narrative, and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about some of the chapters I've already posted. While I'm away, please consider shooting me a PM or something [I've given up on the reviews...] if you have any constructive criticism as to how you think the story could improve, etc. Thanks again for following along!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Thanks for the kind words, as always! Remus and Rowan never explicitly said, "We should break up," but it's just kind of a silent understanding between them that being together has been hurtful for the both of them. Sorry if I didn't make that really clear.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 20: Of Knowing One's Place**

While she tried to figure out her next steps regarding her work with Belby, Rowan returned to the Order of the Phoenix. Her comrades were all delighted to see her, and Molly even insisted on having a small welcome back celebration to commemorate her recovery. The thought of a party frightened her slightly, but at the eagerness on the older woman's face, she found that she couldn't say no.

After the fire, the Death Eaters had become quiet, and the Order took the opportunity to enjoy the moment as best as they could. If they'd learned anything over the past dark months, it was that they had to cherish the peaceful times the best they could. Rowan seemed to represent that for all of them.

Remus had retained his habit of hovering, and Rowan was unsure as to how to feel about it. She appreciated how much he cared, but it seemed that his protectiveness hadn't lessened at all since they'd broken up. In fact, after Belby's death, it had only increased. But he didn't shoot her the same starved looks as before, and she didn't know if the ache she felt was for him or the memory of their time together. They'd returned to a comfortable friendship, though unconventional, and she wondered idly if she'd be able to stand seeing him with another woman. She knew the answer would probably be no, but it amused her slightly to entertain the idea.

The "small" gathering that Molly had planned instead ended up being quite a party. As Rowan sat on the couch in the Headquarters living room, she thought to herself a bit sourly that she really should have expected it, considering her friends. Sirius and James had taken it upon themselves to make Rowan know how thrilled they were to have her back and recovered as loudly as possible, and though she really appreciated how much they cared about her, she was quickly growing overwhelmed. She spent the great majority of the party subdued, talking quietly with Lily, Mina, and Alice Longbottom in the corner.

But she had to admit that the night was entertaining. Sirius and James had enchanted the various sweets that Molly had baked so that they danced around the edges of the room in a floating line. It reminded Rowan of a Muggle film that she'd once seen with James as children. Fabian and Gideon Prewett had even performed a strange sort of jig together for the entertainment of the group, and Rowan laughed and clapped at the ludicrous dynamic the two shared. She imagined that they could make quite a lot of money if they went into comedy.

Throughout the night, her various comrades approached her to tell her how happy they were to have her back. She was overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Kingsley warmly and elegantly told her that her light had been sorely missed, and Dedalus Diggle nodded fervently, showering her with praise and throwing around melodramatic words like "warrior" and "survivor." She hadn't felt herself blush so much since her school days. She had no idea that they'd felt so strongly about her being there, and she was incredibly humbled by the efforts they'd put forth to let her know it. She was suddenly ashamed of how afraid she had been to return and wanted to apologize to all of them for her cowardly thoughts.

As the party died down, she looked around the room at her friends and listed all the ways she was grateful. Even in the midst of war, she had found such a strong group of allies – how many people were fortunate enough to say the same? Even if there was a traitor amongst them, how could she feel bitter when there were so many more who were loyal?

Rowan's gaze fell upon Remus, who was speaking quietly with Fabian in the corner. She was relieved to see that he'd relaxed for the night, and the other Order members seemed to feel the same. She thought of all the ways he'd supported her throughout everything and didn't know how to feel about him anymore. It'd be an understatement to say that he was her best friend, but they weren't lovers either. She reasoned that most wouldn't go to such lengths to protect their former lovers, but then again, this was Remus – wouldn't he have done it for any of their friends, not just her?

His eyes suddenly met hers from across the room, and the surprised look on his face was quickly replaced with a warm smile. She wanted to wrap herself in it and sleep until spring came. The realization of how much she still loved him startled her, but she felt no grief, no loneliness. She somehow knew that things would always be this way. She smiled back. How could she have ever thought him cold?

* * *

The next week, Rowan sat in the kitchen at the Order Headquarters after smoothly completing a mission with Arthur Weasley and Emmeline Vance. The three were silent, lost in their own thoughts. The air tasted stale. They had met up with an informant, an old shopkeeper from Knockturn Alley, who had witnessed a friendly and eerie exchange between known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and Order member Isaac Jones.

Rowan didn't know what to think. They all knew there had been a traitor within the Order, but the idea of Isaac feeding the Death Eaters critical information was nauseating.

She realized suddenly that she barely knew the man. He had never been a vocal member, never outspoken or aggressive, and always going along with whatever plans the rest of the Order created without opinion. He had joined alone, without being pushed by friends or family, and Rowan suddenly wondered if this had been his intent all along. Had he been the one responsible for their ambush and Edgar Bones' murder? What else had he given away? Her stomach felt heavy with dread, and her throat tightened.

What would this mean for the Order? Were there more traitors among them? A cold trickle of fear crept up her spine. Despite not knowing him well, she had trusted him, never questioned his loyalties. She thought of Dorcas and Edgar - had they died because of their allies' blindness?

Her arm ached. Was he the one responsible for both fires – for hers and Remus' suffering?

"You know, I'm sort of relieved," Emmeline said suddenly.

Rowan and Arthur looked up at her, both confused. She was smiling weakly at the mug in her hands.

"It sort of makes sense, doesn't it?" she said softly. Her face held a humorless, bitter smile. "He never really spoke to anyone, never got to know any of us. Why hadn't we seen it before?"

Rowan grimaced. The older woman had voiced her own thoughts exactly – why _hadn't_ they seen it? Were they so desperate for members that they'd completely overlooked all of the motivations behind his joining? What else had they overlooked?

"And at least now, we know it's not Lupin," Emmeline said flippantly.

Rowan's head jerked up and stared at the woman in front of her. Her heart had stopped. She couldn't possibly have just said that, could she?

Emmeline realized her mistake as soon as she had said it. Her face was pale with mortification and gaped at Rowan, horrified at the words that had slipped from her mouth.

"Rowan, I-" she started, but Rowan interrupted her.

"You thought it was Remus?" she asked, making no effort to hide her disdain. She couldn't move her arms.

Arthur stared at the two women, also pale and horrified. "Rowan, you have to understand," he whispered. "Remus' behavior for a long time was very strange, and he's been cold to everyone over the past six months or so. It was only natural that we'd begin to suspect him," he explained carefully.

Rowan stared at him, disbelieving. "_'We_'_?"_ she exclaimed. They flinched at her shrill tone. "How many of you suspected him? When were you planning on telling me this?"

They looked down in shame, neither meeting her eye. A scream threatened to erupt from her chest. How could they even _think_ of Remus as suspicious?

"_What is wrong with you people?_"she accused angrily. Her rage was rising to her throat, and she felt the heat in her face. "I'm the one who got hurt from all of this! How could you even think that he could betray us? Betray me?"

Emmeline looked up at her again, shame still written across her face. "Rowan, you have to understand. He was so angry after the accident. We thought that maybe he hadn't meant for you to get hurt, that there was a mistake and he was angry that you'd been injured in the crossfire. We know he'd never want to hurt you," she explained quickly. "And then he was so angry towards all of us. It was like he blamed us for what happened!"

"_But you thought he'd want to hurt all of you!"_ Rowan exclaimed furiously. Arthur and Emmeline flinched and looked away again.

"I can't believe you," Rowan said softly, angrily. Realization hit her.

"It's because he's a werewolf, isn't it?" she accused. Her teammates didn't meet her eye. Fury swelled in her chest. "You thought that because Voldemort has werewolf supporters that Remus would be the obvious traitor!"

She looked at them frantically. They still had their gazes averted in shame. "You call yourselves his friends, but you look down on him just like everyone else!" she shouted angrily. She stood abruptly, rattling the table noisily. "I can't believe I came back here thinking that this Order was filled with honorable people, but you're nothing but ignorant cowards!" she screamed, grabbing her coat from her chair and slamming it into the table. She stormed from the room. They didn't try to stop her.

* * *

Rowan walked and walked through London alone, not knowing where she was going. She thought vaguely that she was breaking every one of the Order's rules about walking alone at night, but she was so angry, so furious at the Order that she spitefully wanted to disobey every rule, every piece of guidance that had been laid out for them. She almost _wanted_ to get hurt, to make them regret ever suspecting Remus. Her legs moved quickly, forcefully. Her blood rushed through her veins with fire and flames, and she wanted to desperately burn something.

How many of them had suspected him and for how long? Did their friends suspect him too? She thought back to the shifty looks and expressions on their faces after she'd been injured and realized that they'd known all along. How long had they whispered behind her back, pitied her for not knowing? She suddenly was filled with spiteful rage and wanted to hurt her own friends for their lack of faith in Remus, in her. Hadn't they in fact betrayed _him_ by thinking him the traitor? She'd never known such violence in her heart and realized that this must have been what Remus had felt as he'd watched her burn.

But she kept walking, storming through the empty city until she came to Remus' street. She looked up to the sky. The moon was waxing, nearly full. Her heart ached – another cycle, another full moon, another month that she had still been unable to help him. Would she ever be able to free him from this terrible condition and all that came with it? Her chest constricted with despair.

She pulled out her keys and carefully fingered through them until she found his. Would he be home? She felt a pull of determination as she entered the building and walked up the stairs to his flat. As she stood outside of his door, she was pained by all that laid between them.

* * *

When Remus answered the door, he was shocked to see Rowan standing there, looking at him as if she hadn't seen him in months. Rowan's eyes searched over his frantically, and the innocent surprise, the twist of concern on his lips made her want to press her own against them. She hadn't wanted to kiss him so badly in so long, and she was overwhelmed with the need to show him how wonderful he was, how much she loved him.

"Rowan," he frowned but stood aside to let her in. She walked in dazedly. "What're you doing here? I thought I told you to let me know when you were done at Headquarters," he scolded seriously.

Rowan stood in the middle of his apartment and gazed around, confused. Her coat remained on her shoulders, and she felt strangely small. She didn't say anything, and he was beginning to worry.

"Winnie," he called out to her, approaching her slowly. Rowan looked up at him with that same expression of frustration. "Winnie, what's wrong? What happened?" he asked softly, placing his hands on her arms and lowering himself slightly to look at her better.

As he looked at her with the rising concern in his eyes, she realized that she couldn't tell him what Emmeline and Arthur had said. He was so good – how could she tell him that their friends, their _best_ friends, had mistrusted him? She'd never felt so betrayed, so hurt, and she hadn't even been the one they'd suspected.

Despair filled her lungs. _He wasn't hers anymore_. Did she have the right to feel this pain for him, to try to bear his burden? No matter how much she wanted him, how much she loved him, she knew that she couldn't hold him to her. His condition wasn't just a physical burden - it had become such a critical part of him, something ingrained into his very spirit. Even if she were to cure him of it eventually, would he ever really be free of the monster that lived inside of him? Would ever fully be hers?

It didn't make sense to feel this much grief after being apart for so many months. Had it just never sunk in before now, that they weren't together anymore? She saw the distance between them as they stood together in his apartment and felt the weight of it heavily on her heart. Even with his hands on her, she felt so far from him. She lifted her hands to her face and felt her wet tears on her fingertips. She hadn't even realized that she'd been crying.

"Rowan, please, you're scaring me. What happened?" he asked, panic rising in his voice. He moved a hand to her face and thumbed away some of the tears there.

The gentleness of the gesture constricted her throat, and she held herself from back grasping it, from leaning into the warmth of his touch. This was as far as she could go.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what's come over me. I just really needed to see you."

The worry didn't leave Remus' face. His eyes searched hers for some sort of answer besides what she'd give him, and she kept her gaze forward, unwavering.

Finally, he pulled her towards him gently and held her against him. Her body went limp. She was too tired to fight him. Her head laid against his chest, and she heard the steady rhythm of his heart. She closed her eyes and tried to match her own to it.


	21. Of a Werewolf's Happiness

**A/N**: I'm astounded by the amount of feedback I've gotten over the past few days. Seriously, I simply mention that I'd been reconsidering some of the chapters, and I suddenly get a flood of reviews! I feel like something is wrong about all of this. But still, I guess I should be grateful that I have so many faithful readers. Thanks for all the support, even if it was based on a misunderstanding haha. I'm still not going to be updating so often though. Sorry!

**Pandafulprincess, Lucifel Fenrir, and tiffy:** Thanks so much for the kind words! I'm really happy it's been a page-turner for you guys. I'm also happy that the sequel has been enough for you to keep going with it. I really appreciate the warm reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

This isn't a very eventful chapter, but we finally get a look into Remus' head. He's such a good guy.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 21: Of a Werewolf's Happiness**

Remus woke slowly, blearily. Even without opening his eyes, he felt the warm body pressed against him and simply knew that it was Rowan. He pulled her in tightly. He still didn't understand what had brought her there and knew deep down that it had been a mistake to insist that she stay the night, but he wanted to cherish every moment he had with her. He wanted to pretend that she was still his.

It had taken him weeks to understand the implications of his leaving her in the hospital, crying alone. He had been lost in a dark haze of anger and hatred. He barely remembered any of it. Even as he'd sat with by her bed with his head full of her, he hadn't really seen her in front of him. Her voice was like a distant echo.

She had been a ghost – or perhaps he had been the ghost – and all he could think about was finding the traitor within their midst. No person had been beyond his scrutiny, even their closest friends. When he'd smelled the burnt flesh, heard her terrible screams, his darkness had roared and thrashed, tearing at him from the inside, and for the first time in his life, he relished it, _wanted_ to unleash the monster in him to reap revenge on anyone who came near her. He wanted to rip apart every Death Eater, every person who had ever laid eyes on her. As he looked at their comrades, he saw guilt in every single face and wanted to tear them all apart. He wanted them to all know the pain that she had suffered, to know that it was also _their_ fault for allowing her to be the sacrifice. Green fire burned everywhere.

But as the days turned to weeks, the anger became numb, and he realized that she was nowhere to be found. He hadn't found the traitor, and there was a deathly silence within him. Even the dark voice had gone cold, and he wondered if perhaps he had burned in that fire along with Edgar.

And then his mother died.

When he saw Rowan standing in St. Mungo's, she'd looked like a haunted doll, like a distant dream. She didn't meet his eyes, tears silently falling to the floor with head bent. He couldn't remember her voice. He wondered how long it had been since he'd seen her. She stood alone and frail. It didn't look right. Hadn't he always been by her side?

But he hadn't been there. He'd left her, been swallowed by his rage, consumed in the fire along with her skin. How long had it been since he'd seen his parents? His friends? Had he really left her to heal alone?

She'd been there all along, helping his sick mother and recovering slowly with her while he'd been in the dark, groping blindly for a sign of a traitor that he wasn't even sure existed anymore. He'd promised to protect her, to take care of his mother, but he'd abandoned them both in his search for the revenge that Rowan hadn't even wanted. Had his mother been lonely, afraid when she died? Did she know that he loved her, that she was more than he'd ever deserved?

He returned home with his father, searching around the house for any trace of Leanna, cherishing ever remnant of her. There was a broken teacup and small splatters of dried blood on the floor. The white bandages on Rowan's small feet burned into his mind. She had stood in that very kitchen earlier that day, clinging to his dying mother. Had she fallen? Was she in pain? He followed the bloody footprints through the halls and saw the ghost of Rowan's frail form struggling through the house. He could imagine her fear, taste her tears.

Remus stood in the kitchen among the broken ceramic. He didn't know for how long. The pieces were scattered across the floor, and though he knew he could fix it with a word, it seemed wrong, like a sign of disrespect to his mother. He almost wanted to leave them there to serve as a reminder of all the ways she'd suffered. He imagined his mother's small form standing in front of the counter and the sound of running water over clinking glass. He had looked at the back of her figure there his entire life, remembered the day he realized he was finally taller than her – she had cried happily – and he wished more than anything that he could see her there one more time. His throat tightened. He would never be able to hear her voice again.

Finally, he picked up the larger pieces and then gently swept up the tiny shards with his hands. He placed the shattered bits on a clean piece of paper and didn't have the heart to throw them away. He sat at the kitchen table with his mother's broken glass and the still-full cup that Rowan had drank from until his father pushed him up the stairs.

Sleep never came, however, and as he sat awake, he imagined that, at any moment, Leanna might knock on his door softly and scold him for not sleeping, as she always had in his nights of insomnia as a boy. He thought of her melodious voice, and the way she would cradle him after his monthly transformations as a boy. He laid in his bed, which felt much too small, too cold to be his, and he cried silently, wishing desperately that he could see her one last time.

When dawn broke, he began to hear the voices of his friends entering his home. How long had it been since he'd seen them? How could they come there after all that the terrible ways he'd treated them? He suddenly felt ashamed. His friends, who had accepted all of his worst qualities and weaknesses from the very first day at Hogwarts, had absorbed his coldness, his darkness, without so much as a complaint. How could he face them?

And then there was a knock, and he was terrified. He wanted to curl up in his bed and disappear. But he had no right to run away from them. He deserved to feel their anger, their resentment. He grit his teeth and opened the door.

But it hadn't been his father or Sirius or James. It was Rowan. He had just seen her the day before, but as she stood there, he saw her face for the first time in what seemed like years. The brightness of her eyes blinded him, and before he knew it, she was in his room, standing amongst his belongings. It felt so strange to have her there, but as they looked through his pictures, he realized that she had been there all along. The world suddenly came into focus, clear and bright, and he wondered how it could have taken him so long to see her there. How many times now had she stood by him quietly, waiting for him to notice her?

She held him as he cried, just like Leanna had all those years ago. His mother's funeral passed in a hazy blur, but he remembered the warmth of Rowan's body pressed against him that night. When she left the next morning, he mourned that while he'd finally woken from his walking nightmares, he'd paid the price of losing both of the most precious women in his life. Rowan had suffered too much by him, and he knew it was finally time to let her go.

Though he and the Marauders immediately picked up where they'd left off, he still couldn't shake the feelings of suspicion around the other Order members. He had caught a glimpse of Rowan's burns as she'd slipped on his shirt, and the sight of the clean bandages beneath her clothes was sobering. The image was again fresh in his mind, and as long as it remained there, he knew he wouldn't be able to truly rest until he knew she would never be hurt again.

He fell back into a mundane rhythm without any great sorrow or joy, but he was content. He and Rowan resumed their friendship surprisingly easily, and he thought fondly that his mother would have been happy for them. His judgment had slipped on Christmas Eve, and he'd kissed her, but he reasoned that they'd been drunk and that their secret would remain there in the dark. She hadn't seemed to mind, and he never brought it up again, but the dark voice within him howled distantly.

But when he and Fabian saw her silver wolf appear that evening in February, his blood ran cold, and he felt his own wolf bursting from his bones. Every fiber of his being screamed as he saw her run into the burning apothecary, and before Fabian could stop him, he'd ran after her, dragging her out kicking and screaming. It was a nightmare. He saw flashes of her burning flesh in his mind again, and no matter how much she beat at him and shouted for her master, he held steadfast and absorbed her blows, letting her punish his selfishness.

He still didn't know what had transpired within Belby's parting gift to her, but when she'd woken from the Pensieve's trance, there was an ache in her eyes that he'd never seen before. He spent the next couple of weeks coming and going from her apartment. She didn't move much, and at times, he thought that perhaps she was a ghost. He wanted to hold her, but he knew he had no right anymore – hadn't he given all of that up when he'd abandoned her the last time she'd grieved?

Her master had left him a decent amount of gold in his passing, and he still hated the thought of it. It sat in his bank vault untouched, and if it hadn't been for the precious place the deceased Potions Master held in Rowan's heart, he would have given it away. It seemed tainted, like a gift of pity – his stomach clenched bitterly at the thought. But Rowan had cried and held his hands tightly and told him that it was a final gesture of devotion to the old wizard's love. He found that he couldn't argue.

Rowan had bounced back though, as she always did, though her actions were more subdued, her voice a little less bright. He missed her spark desperately, and he was determined to be by her side, to ensure that it came back to her. He insisted on walking with her at night and even checked on her sometimes during the day. When he was away on missions for the Order, he ensured that one of the other Marauders was there for her, and through it all, he finally understood that while his morals and ethics might waver, she would always be his reason.

So when she'd appeared at his door the night before, wide-eyed and confused, he felt as if he had been dreaming. He couldn't understand what had brought her there, and he still hadn't the faintest idea. He looked at her as she slept and wondered what could have possibly happened for her to seek him out.

If it hadn't been for his insistence on seeing her, would he really see her at all? He grimaced at the thought. He knew she still loved him – was he actually hurting her by staying by her side? Should he try to distance himself, to allow them both time to move on?

His eyes then fell upon the scars on her arm, and he knew he couldn't possibly do that. The bandages were gone and the open wounds and scabs had healed over, but the redness remained, peaking out from beneath the sleeve of his shirt. The color was bright and shining and screamed of painful memories. He thought of the way she'd always cherished his scars affectionately and thought bitterly that this was much darker. Hers was a crime, a brush with death and spite. The anger bristled in him again. This beautiful girl should never have known anything but the kindest of touches. Even if she grew to resent him, he couldn't leave her alone when there was still a war going on.

His dark thoughts were interrupted when he felt her shift against him. He looked down and saw her looking at his chest, eyebrows furrowed.

"Winnie, your gears are showing," he whispered. He was surprised at how easily and quickly it slipped from his lips.

She jerked in surprise and looked up at him, flustered, a light blush on her face. He couldn't help but smile, reminded of the times at Hogwarts before they'd started dating when he'd tease her mercilessly. She frowned at him but didn't say anything before moving away from him. He mourned the pressure of her body against his.

Her face melted into a sheepish smile, and he wanted to squeeze her again. But she shifted and sat up, and he quietly mourned the loss of her warmth.

She sat in silence for a while and just stared about the room. He watched her gaze wander slowly and admired the way the morning light reflected off her skin, how her hair fell about her. His heart tightened painfully. He couldn't just reach out and touch her anymore whenever he wanted, and he wanted to so _badly_.

"Thank you," she whispered, turning back to him. He felt his throat constrict at the gentle smile on her face.

"I frequently seem to be a mess around you, but you always take it in stride," she said, grinning lightly. He smiled softly back. "Sorry for taking up your bed – not a very good friend, am I?"

He laughed softly and sat up as well, ruffling her hair and moving out of the bed. He needed to put some distance between them before he did something stupid.

"Nonsense," he said genuinely, "You've always been a better friend than I deserve." He moved towards his sink and filled a glass of water, bringing it over to her.

Her face melted warmly as she took the glass from him, amber eyes shining in the yellow light, and he had to look away. It was as if she took the sun and magnified it – he might go blind if he gazed at her too long

"You deserve everything, Remus," she said fervently, and he had to consciously keep himself from kissing her.

She drank from the glass then stood, taking it over to his sink. He watched her figure and thought of how normal it all seemed to have her there again, as if they were still together.

"I should probably get going. I know you have to get to work and all," she said, turning back around and moving towards her clothes, which were laid over a chair.

He nodded dumbly, not really hearing her. He watched as she sorted out her clothing and then realized that she was looking at him with an embarrassed look on her face. _Shit_, he was staring!

He turned away from her, face burning, and moved to his wardrobe to pull out his own clothes for the day. He heard the shifting of cloth that said she was changing quickly. Once he heard her movement stop, he turned slowly to see her staring out the window longingly. He had noticed this habit and paired it with her moments of inner musings. He wondered what she had just decided.

But then she turned and smiled at him, and he was dazed.

She moved towards him quickly and hugged him fiercely. He stumbled slightly with surprise at the force of her embrace but then wrapped his arms around her tightly. She sighed and then slowly let go, looking up at him brightly. He wanted to kiss her.

"Better take a shower before work - you stink," she said cheekily.

He barked out a laugh and ruffled her hair. She was so bright - how he loved her! She squealed and ran away from him towards the door. Just as she was about to open it, she turned back at him and smiled again.

"Thanks again. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate it," she said warmly – _appreciate you._

He smiled. "I know," he said. She grinned one more time before running out the door. As he watched the door shut, he felt strangely light, and as he prepared for work, he noted happily that the monotony of his days had been lifted just slightly.


	22. Of the Coming Orange Spring

**A/N**: A little more of Peter, but not much.

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Thanks, as always! I'll probably be updating every few days at most, but I'll definitely try to keep a steady rhythm.

**dearmaggie:** As always, your reviews are extremely thorough, thoughtful, and really meaningful - thank you so much. I felt really terrible killing off Belby since I loved his character, but yeah, he was always meant to pave the way for Rowan. I'm glad that Peter's character is growing on you. He's so difficult to flesh out - cowardice is a very hard trait to understand I think, especially when it's mixed with good intentions. As for Rowan and Remus, there's some lightness in this chapter. I'm throwing a wrench in there soon though, so I hope you find it interesting! Also, I totally love Wes Anderson films and am so pleased that you appreciate my profile image thing.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 22: Of the Coming Orange Spring**

Remus had insisted that Rowan spend the night in his flat after she showed up there in her strange panic, and she had tiredly consented. She pulled on the familiar t-shirt and sweatpants and was wrapped gently beneath his covers. He held her against him tightly throughout the night, and Rowan was strangely thankful for it because it meant that she wouldn't have to see his face, which filled her with guilt.

When she woke the next morning, he smiled warmly, and though it sent a dull ache through her, she was filled with a strange feeling of resolution. He wasn't hers – no, but she was still his, even if he didn't need or want her, and she was determined to be his greatest defender, whether it was in the face of their friends or enemies. As she left his apartment, a slow burning filled her stomach, and she knew she finally had the motivation to move forward.

She confronted the rest of the Marauders about it after, and they all accepted her anger and fury with guilty resignation. James had looked righteous with indignation – he had been the only one to not believe any suspicions of Remus, and Rowan felt fiercely proud of her childhood friend's loyalty.

"It would be the height of dishonor to suspect one's friends," he'd told her quietly, fervently, in their moments alone. She'd never felt closer to him.

They hadn't apologized to Remus though, and Rowan wasn't sure if it would be wise to tell him anyway. He didn't exactly need to know that his friends had suspected him – after all, what good would it do for him to know? He was already so on edge, so guilt-ridden with everything else that informing him of his best friends' disloyalty would only crush him. The last thing Rowan wanted was for him to lose all hope in the people he loved most.

Emmeline Vance and Arthur Weasley, however, apologized profusely to Rowan, and though she was unable to forgive them for the time being, she knew she'd move past it eventually. She tried to not let it affect the way that she worked with the Order, but many of their guilty looks told her that more than a few of them had suspected Remus as well. She appreciated the steady and objective Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody more than ever and insisted on only being teamed with them for the next few missions, which Dumbledore fortunately granted.

A few nights after their discovery of Isaac Jones' treachery, the Aurors arrested the man. He'd fought furiously against them, but under the influence of Moody's most potent Veritaserum, the truth came spilling out. The ambush against them had been because of his doing, and he had been greatly rewarded for Edgar and Wisteria's deaths by the Dark Lord. Rowan, Remus, James, and Sirius had insisted on being present for his questioning, and when it all finally came into the light, Rowan's arm ached. The crazed smile on Jones' face as they pulled up his sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark haunted her for days.

But he hadn't been able to tell them anything about Belby's murder. Igor Karkaroff still refused to yield the name of the Death Eater who had burned down the apothecary, and Rowan was sure that if she were to meet him face to face, she might actually kill the man. She confided her dark feelings to James with fear, and he held her tightly, whispering that she was still a good person and that he would fight beside her and didn't she know how inspiring her light was to them all? She thought bitterly of how ironic it was that he spoke the same words that she had thought towards Remus when he had also been lost in his darkness.

The mystery of Belby's murderer remained, and though a deep part of Rowan roared with the need to reap revenge on his killer, she remained patient. One day, she would find the terrible man that left her mentor-less, and even if her darkness consumed her, he would know the pain that Damocles Belby had suffered tenfold.

* * *

Rowan sat at her family's table with her parents and Alfred feeling quite anxious. Her parents had invited her home for dinner one night at the beginning of March, and Rowan had a terrible feeling in her gut. It wasn't often that Richard ate dinner at home with his family, and he'd been stiff and jerky all evening. She watched him from the corner of her eye with suspicion throughout dinner, and when Carole and Alfred stood from the table quietly, leaving Rowan and Richard alone, she knew he was going to give her bad news.

"Karkaroff is pleading diplomatic immunity. The Bulgarians are trying to bring him home," he said darkly.

Rowan dropped her fork and stared at her father in cold disbelief.

"_What?_ He assisted in a murder! They can't just do that!" she cried indignantly. Her anger came surging forward, bursting from her chest. She wanted to kill that man, to bring him to his knees in pain. He deserved to live out his life in Azkaban – could it really end like this?

"They can," Richard said sullenly. "We're doing all we can to keep him here and get a conviction or at least get him to give us some names, but it isn't looking good. I don't know how long we'll be able to hold the Bulgarians off."

Rowan's hands clenched almost painfully. They trembled with fury. How could this be happening? How could the government allow this? Weren't they supposed to be bringing these evil men to justice?

"Isn't there anything you can do?" she asked desperately. Her eyes searched her father's face beseechingly.

Richard looked at his daughter with pity. "I don't know, Winnie, but I can promise that I'm trying as hard as I can," he said.

Rowan nodded but was filled with guilt. She gazed at her father, who suddenly looked very old and tired. Most men would have retired by his age, but he'd continued working, even in these dark days. She hadn't seen him much since Belby's passing, and Carole said that he'd been working almost constantly. She suddenly was filled with an overwhelming love for her father as she realized that he must have been fighting for Karkaroff's conviction this entire time.

She stood noisily and stumbled over to her father, who looked startled at her sudden movement, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders fiercely. He hesitantly placed his hands on her back and then held her tightly. She hadn't felt so close to him in years.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered.

His embrace tightened. "I love you too, Winnie," he said.

* * *

Remus' twentieth birthday arrived, and the Marauders and company decided to take the time to celebrate together and appreciate the momentary peace. Rowan knew that they were still feeling guilty about suspecting their mate, but she appreciated their gesture all the same. After all that they'd gone through over the past year, Remus certainly deserved a bit of happiness and appreciation.

Remus was surprised and confused by the sudden outpouring of affection from his friends, but he accepted it sheepishly all the same. Rowan saw the look of gratitude on his face and was reminded of the expression he so often wore in their earlier days at Hogwarts and was filled with happiness. She wondered, if given the chance, would she tell her awkward fourteen year-old self to move on before her feelings became too heavy? Would it have even changed anything?

They gathered in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade like their old days in school and drank merrily. Lily and Mina had gotten him a chocolate cake, and James, Sirius, and Peter insisted on screeching what sounded like Belby's old augurey Alexander's unpleasant cries for food, though they insisted that it was a happy birthday song. It was a joyous night, one of the brightest they'd had in months, and Rowan couldn't remember being happier in a long time.

* * *

Remus sat at the table with his friends and couldn't help but feel extremely grateful to be alive. Lily and Sirius were chatting animatedly about a new Muggle motorbike that Sirius had been eyeing while Rowan and James were attempting to teach Mina a game that they had played as kids involving the tabletop, their fingers, and a few Knuts. The brunette looked thoroughly frustrated, and the other two were laughing riotously at their friend's confusion, drumming on the table in a strange rhythm that no one else seemed to understand. Even Remus could see that the game didn't make much sense to anyone else but the two childhood friends.

Peter was sitting next to him quietly, and he realized that he hadn't spoken much to him over the past few weeks. Peter had been rather withdrawn and quiet – at least, more so than usual. He observed him silently and noted that his gaze was fixed on Rowan and Mina. There was a strange expression there that he'd never seen on Peter's face before – was it longing?

He felt something stir in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. After all, this was Peter – honest, gentle Peter. He would never try to make a move on either woman.

"Hey, Wormy, what's up?" he asked, calling the other man from his daze.

Peter jumped slightly and turned to look at Remus, slight embarrassment on his face. Remus smiled warmly at him. _It's okay._ Peter blushed slightly but smiled back at his friend.

"Oh, sorry, Moony. I was lost in thought. I'm doing okay. How're you?" he asked.

"I'm all right. I just realized we haven't really caught up in a while. Anything exciting happen at work recently?" he asked curiously.

Remus had been surprised when Peter had told them about his job as a hex breaker at Gringotts, but the smaller man had seemed to enjoy his job very much and had demonstrated an unusual proclivity towards it. He would tell them stories about strange items and characters showing up at the bank, and they all marveled at the young man's surprising talent for storytelling and puzzle solving. Remus particularly enjoyed hearing about a strange box with teeth from Romania that sang siren songs, luring in its listeners and then biting their hands off as they reached in. Peter had to remove the teeth with an impressively complex incantation, and after, the box returned to normal, though a strange humming had continued from the disembodied teeth.

Peter's face lit up. "Yes!" he squeaked. "Someone actually brought in a large mirror the other day that she claims shows something different for each person that looks into it. She said she found it in some ancient ruins in Greece. I haven't been able to take a look at it yet, but it looks absolutely fascinating. I'm really excited to see what it does, though I might have to brush up on my Greek magical history first," he rambled happily.

Remus smiled broadly at his friend's enthusiasm. Peter had never shown much excitement for school as boys, and the sight of him with so much passion was endearing. He just hoped he could have as much luck in his profession.

"And what about in the dating department? Sirius says there's someone you're interested in," he said teasingly. "How'd you meet her?"

Peter blushed, and Remus thought for a moment that he stole a glance toward Mina and Rowan again, who were giggling over a secret joke with their heads huddled closely, but he must have imagined it. Peter smiled warmly.

"Yeah, she's actually the one who brought the mirror in. She's a treasure hunter, so I see her sometimes for work when she thinks that one of her finds has a curse or hex on it," he said bashfully. "I haven't known her for long though, so I'm not sure if I should ask her out yet."

Remus smiled. "Well, I hope it goes well. She'd be a fool to not say yes," he said genuinely.

Peter grinned.

* * *

After saying goodbye to their friends with each Disapparating for their respective homes, Rowan and Remus walked leisurely down Rowan's street. The night had a few clouds, but the air felt light. Rowan breathed deeply and savored the cool breeze. It was still cold, but she could tell spring was coming. She hoped it would bring good things with it.

"What're you thinking about?" Remus asked.

Rowan kept her gaze upward towards the sky. The moon was strangely orange, and she wondered if the glowing field in Hungary was reflecting the color back in response. She felt strangely calm.

"Just thinking about spring. I have a good feeling," she said languorously. "I think I'd like to start playing my violin again. It's been a long time."

Remus smiled brightly at her. "I'd like to hear you play if you decide to pick it up again," he said fondly.

She turned and smiled gently. She wanted to memorize the color of his eyes and the tone of their sheen in the night glow.

"Definitely," she said brightly.


	23. Of Heroes' Children

**A/N**: A lighter chapter. WEASLEYS!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1, snuffles95, tiffy, Rainbor123, missalex3030:** Thank you all for the kind words! Thank you thank you!

**misslak:** You changed your pen name! It really fucked with my head for a second haha. But anyway, I can't thank you enough for all of the reviews! Seriously, I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am for the feedback. I also noticed the lack of dialogue and I think it's been much more internal b/c the brooding nature of this story, but I'm hoping for a little more in that area soon as the action will be picking up. There's definitely more in this and the next chapter, but I'll keep your critiques in mind as I move forward. Thank you again!

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 23: Of Heroes' Children**

Rowan stood in the kitchen of the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters with Molly Weasley, helping the red-haired woman wash dishes after completing a late night mission. It had gone smoothly, a simple protection mission for a Muggle-born witch's family as she moved them into hiding. They had been receiving more and more requests of the sort recently, as Muggle-borns began fearing more for their non-magical relatives with the increase in violence. Rowan had been relieved that the mission hadn't been for a high-profile figure again, as the memory of Edgar Bones and his family still burned into her memory, but she still felt accomplished for helping put someone else's mind at ease.

Rowan looked up at the clock on the wall – the sun would be rising at any moment. She then glanced over at Molly, who was still scrubbing furiously and wondered how she could stand waiting alone for Arthur night after night, knowing what danger he was in. They had five young adorable sons, all with flaming red hair. The most recent birth had been just the previous year – twins.

Every once in a while, Rowan, Lily, and Mina would help Molly with the boys when her mother Mrs. Prewett or the elder Mrs. Weasley were unavailable. Rowan would laugh at the young Weasley boys' strong affection towards Lily, joking that they saw her red hair and probably assumed she was an aunt or older sister. Mina didn't have any particular fondness for young children, but she came all the same, usually acting as disciplinarian to keep Rowan in line when she riled the boys up too much with her tricks and stories.

In their moments with the rowdy Weasley boys, Rowan saw the maternal instincts and longing looks in Lily's face and wondered if Lily and James would want to have children in the midst of war as well. They were all still so young – Rowan wasn't even twenty yet – but then again, Lily and James had decided to marry anyway. She would watch Lily carefully with her arms full with the twins Fred and George and think fondly that her friend would look quite natural with a baby of her own. Would it also have red hair or a dark messy mop like James? She imagined their children would be quite brilliant, and James would no doubt insist on teaching them how to fly as soon as possible. Julia would also be thrilled to have grandchildren. She suddenly was very eager to see a new addition to the Potter family.

Rowan looked at Molly again. The woman's fortitude awed Rowan – how could she manage to support a fighting husband and raise five children all at the same time in the middle of a war? It seemed ludicrous. Rowan was barely able to maintain her job and volatile relationship with her werewolf almost-boyfriend, let alone even consider taking care of a child. And _five_? The woman must not sleep!

"Molly, you should go home and get some rest. I can finish this. Arthur might not be back for a while anyway," she said gently.

Molly shook her head and continued scrubbing dishes. "No, it's okay, Winnie. I wouldn't be able to sleep even if I tried. And besides, we're almost done!" she smiled up at Rowan brightly, but the worry in her eyes remained.

"I don't know how you do it," Rowan said honestly. Molly frowned.

"How can you stand by and let your husband fight when you have a family to care for?" she asked with wonder in her voice. "That sort of thing requires real conviction. I can't even imagine how difficult it is."

Molly smiled genuinely. "Thank you," she said softly, "But I imagine that our reasons for fighting are the same as yours. And it's not like you don't have your own problems to deal with on top of it all," she said kindly.

Rowan shook her head. "No, I can't even compare my situation to yours. It must take incredible faith in Arthur and inner strength to do what you do," she said earnestly. "It's amazing, _really."_

Molly smiled again but didn't say anything and turned back to the dishes. Once they reached the last few, Molly spoke again.

"I've been meaning to apologize to you," she said. Rowan looked over at her, slightly worried. "I had also suspected Remus before we found out about Isaac," Molly confessed quietly. Rowan was startled by the sudden admittance. Molly grimaced slightly.

"After Arthur came home from your meeting with the informant, he told me what you said, and we talked about it," she said quietly, drying off the last plate slowly. "And you were right," she said guiltily.

Rowan stared at the older woman, unsure of what to say. She realized her mouth was slightly open and closed it quickly.

"We did suspect Remus because of his condition, and it was wrong of us. Remus has never done anything to earn that kind of treatment. Even if he was cold or standoffish after you were hurt, we had no reason to start jumping to conclusions. I probably would have been much worse if I had been in his place," she said gravely.

Rowan watched the dark thoughts run across Molly's face before the older woman visibly shook herself and looked back up at Rowan. She smiled genuinely. "Remus is a good man, and he's extremely lucky to have you. I just wanted to say that I'm very sorry for my prejudice, whether it was intentional or not."

Rowan's chest filled with an overwhelming warmth towards Molly. She reached forward and hugged her fiercely. The older woman jumped slightly at the sudden embrace but relaxed and hugged her back. When Rowan pulled away, she looked at her friend warmly and said, "Thank you." She hoped that all of her appreciation was expressed properly, despite her inability to say more.

Molly smiled and was about to say something else when the door slammed open. Both women jumped and pulled out their wands in defense, but it was just James, gripping what looked like _The Daily Prophet_.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, putting his hands up in defense. "Easy! There's an article here that you have to see, Winnie!" he said excitedly as the women put down their wands. He rushed forward to the table and spread the newspaper out in front of her. They both leaned over, and James read it out loud:

"_FOREIGN DEATH EATER DENIED DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY: Mr. Igor Karkaroff, a follower of You-Know-Who, was denied diplomatic immunity early in the morning today by the Ministry of Magic. Karkaroff, a Bulgarian citizen, had been seeking asylum in his home country after being arrested for the murder of renowned Potions Master Damocles Belby and the arson of the latter's apothecary and laboratory in Diagon Alley on the evening of February 5. _

"'_We are very pleased to announce that Mr. Karkaroff will stand trial to answer for his heinous crimes,' commented Mr. Richard Delacroix, Head of the Department of International Law. 'His offenses are an act of evil not just towards Great Britain, but also towards the international Wizarding community as a whole, and he will not go unpunished. We are working closely with the Department of Magical Defense to ensure that such a terrible tragedy does not occur again.'_

"_Karkaroff was arrested the evening of February 5 by Ministry Aurors after being found on the scene of the crime. Ministry officials are still searching for his accomplice, a young man described to be thin and about six feet tall, but their investigation is still ongoing. _

"_Mr. Karkaroff's representatives and the Bulgarian Ministry could not be reached for comment._

"_Damocles Belby was a world-renowned Potions Master, known for his ground-breaking research into lycanthropy and the uses of moonstone. He died shortly after being pulled from the fiery attack on his apothecary at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was widowed and never remarried. He is survived by his younger brother Demetrius Belby and sister-in-law Marcia._

"_If you have any information regarding the fire or Karkaroff's missing accomplice, please contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."_

Rowan's eyes scanned over the words rapidly as she heard James read the article out loud. There was a moving picture of Igor Karkaroff, glowering defiantly at the camera with cold eyes. He had stringy dark hair that hung limply over a thin, long face. His yellow teeth were bared to the camera, stretching widely from beneath a long graying goatee. Rowan felt her anger boil in her blood as she gazed into the man's face.

"Damn," James breathed. "Your dad is such a bad ass," he said, voice filled with awe.

Rowan's eyes darted back to the quote from her father, and her anger mixed with righteous pride. She was truly the daughter of a great man. She suddenly needed to see him badly. She looked at the clock on the wall again. He would have probably already left for the office. She would have to wait until the evening to see him.

"Yeah," she said proudly. "He really is."


	24. Of a Father's Love

**A/N**: "The only man a girl can depend on is her daddy." – Frenchy from _Grease_

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 24: Of a Father's Love**

When Remus and Rowan arrived at the Delacroix Manor, they found Richard sitting in his study with a glass of scotch in his hands, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.

"Dad!" Rowan exclaimed as she burst in, followed by a calmer Remus, who sat quietly in the seat across from the older man. She threw her arms around her father's neck, making him spill a bit of his drink in surprise. She pulled away and grinned sheepishly as he sighed with exasperation and placed it on his desk, vanishing away the small splash of liquor. He smiled knowingly at Rowan.

"So you read the paper today," he said smartly. He wore a smug smile, but the tired lines in his face were still apparent.

"Yes, and it was brilliant! I can't thank you enough!" she said gratefully. She noted how exhausted he looked, and her gaze softened. "I can't imagine how much you've had to work to pull this off. I'm sorry for making you go through this," she said ruefully.

He smiled softly. "I'm just doing my job. Knowing how he's hurt you just gives me an extra bit of motivation," he said. Rowan's chest felt like it might burst with affection for her father.

"So what now?" Remus asked. Richard looked over at him, and Rowan saw a strange expression on his face that she couldn't place.

"He'll go on trial with the Wizengamot," Richard replied gravely. "We're still trying to get some names from him, but he wants a deal before he agrees to anything. Some people like Barty Crouch are pushing for it," he said.

Rowan felt a small bubble of panic. "But they can't pardon him! He helped murder someone! And how do we know if he's not just feeding false names to get himself out of trouble? He deserves to go to Azkaban for what he's done!" she exclaimed indignantly.

Richard grimaced. "I know he does, darling, but if the Wizengamot votes to accept his list of conditions then there's nothing I can do about it. I'm pushing as hard as I can to get a conviction, but at this point, I've really done all I can," he said sadly.

Rowan looked at her father with guilt. He looked so old, so tired. He'd been working this case for weeks non-stop, and all she'd done was stomp her feet like a petulant child. He'd always given her everything she'd wanted, and now, he was even risking his life by going up against a known Death Eater. How could she be so ungrateful?

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said quietly. "I know you've been working so hard on this case. I can't express how proud I am of you."

Richard grasped her hand gently and beamed at her. "I will always do everything in my power to make sure that you are safe and taken care of. Even if that means sleeping a little less, then I'll do it without complaints," he said fervently. Rowan's throat constricted with emotion. "You are my greatest treasure. You know that, right?"

She nodded and blinked away the stinging at her eyes. She smiled and squeezed his hands tightly.

He smiled. "Good. Now, go talk to your mother. She's been yapping my ear off non-stop about how she doesn't see you anymore. I need to talk to your friend here alone," he said, pushing her towards the door.

Rowan glanced back at Remus wide-eyed. He stared after her looking bewildered but didn't move. She stood in front of the door, glancing between the two men, but Richard didn't look back at her. He was staring at Remus intently, and Rowan realized she had no choice but to leave Remus there. She shot him an apologetic look before walking out and closing the door quietly.

* * *

Remus watched Rowan leave him in her father's study alone with mild horror. He hadn't been left alone with the older man in ages, and this was the first time since he and Rowan had broken up. Richard was an intimidating man already, but he became an entirely different creature when the matters at hand involved his daughter. He looked at the man carefully with a slight pang of panic.

"Calm down, boy. I just want to talk to you," Richard said gruffly, taking a swig from his glass. As he set it down, he shot a long hard look at Remus. He felt slightly vulnerable.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" the older man asked bluntly.

If Remus had been drinking anything, he would have spat it up. Had he really just asked him that?

But before he could answer, Richard continued: "I know you two are no longer 'together' in an official sense of the word, but I know the expression of a young man in love, and you, sir, still have it all over your face when you look at her."

Remus felt his throat burn with embarrassment. He always figured Rowan's parents knew he still had feelings for her, but hearing her father say it so bluntly was painful. Was he finally going to tell him to shove off?

"When I found out that she was dating a werewolf, I was immediately against it, and I can't say honestly that I was completely displeased when she informed us that she was no longer seeing you," he admitted. He said it confidently and without remorse. Remus was unsure of how to react.

"The idea of my daughter risking her reputation and career for some school romance disturbs me, and now, her involvement with your condition has left her in quite a terrible ordeal, even if she is not romantically involved with you anymore," he declared.

Hearing the cold truth hit Remus off-balance for a moment. He was right – Rowan had gotten hurt numerous times because of her associations with him. Remus' hands gripped his knees with guilt, but he sat straight and forward, not averting his gaze from Richard's face. He waited for the older man to continue.

"But I also know that she's damn stubborn. I'm afraid that's a trait that she inherited from me, though I've generally been quite pleased about it before now," he said.

Remus felt his breaths come short and shallow. Where was he going with this?

"I won't claim to understand the strange dynamic that you have, but if you want to be with her, you have to commit to her – completely, totally, and utterly," Richard said slowly. He emphasized each word with great gravitas. "I know I can't convince her out of this, but _you _can, and if you're even half as honorable as you seem to be, you'll do the right thing by leaving her for good."

Remus felt his blood run cold at the underlying threat in Richard's voice.

Commitment – marriage – had remained in the back of his head since their first conversation, and the dark presence there whispered its desires to claim her, to make her his own in every way. He wanted to be with her, to marry her desperately, but could he really do that? Could he burden her any further?

He thought he'd be able to finally let her go. He wanted to let her go. He'd seen with his own eyes the real damage that her involvement had brought about, and the thought of putting her through more made him sick with despair. But he _couldn't_ completely leave her. He needed to be by her side, to know that she was always safe. Even if he'd ended their romantic relationship, he knew he was incapable of pushing her away completely, that he needed to stay close to her, even under the guise of friendship.

And she'd understood! Even without hearing his explanations or apologies, she'd understood implicitly and completely where life had cruelly led them and why he couldn't be with her any longer. She stood aside willingly to let him walk ahead alone, held herself back from tying him down to her.

"But I have left her," Remus said quietly.

Richard assessed Remus for a moment, swirling his drink on his desk. "You say that," he replied slowly, "but just because you're no longer sharing her bed doesn't mean that you've left her." Remus' face burned at Richard's words.

"My daughter will not be some toy for you to leave and come back to whenever you please. If you want her – if you love her – you'll commit to her completely. If you can't promise me that, then I don't want you anywhere near her," he finished.

Remus weighed the older man's words. Could he promise him to do the right thing? The man had essentially just given him his conditional blessing, but now that he had it, he wasn't sure if he wanted it. It'd be so much easier to push her away if he knew that her parents didn't approve of him, but now he couldn't rationalize it beyond his own personal reasons.

But could he really let her go? Their time apart had been painful. He had been able to resume their friendship relatively easily, but he knew that if he left her again, there would be no friendship, no second chances – at least for him. He wouldn't be able to stand being near her, knowing that she still loved him, that he could never have her. The thought of her moving on without him was equally as painful, and the idea of another man touching her in the way that only he had sparked an echoing howling in his mind.

Richard was looking at him fiercely, waiting for his answer. He looked at the older man and saw all of Rowan's ferocity, her conviction. His eyes burned into him in the same way that hers did, and he knew his answer.

"I can't promise you that I won't hurt her. I think I'll always hurt her somehow," he said honestly, slowly. Richard's face darkened.

"But you're right," he said confidently. "I might have discontinued our relationship de jure, but I can't deny that I'm still very much in love with her. I think I always will be. As far as I'm concerned, every responsibility that I had as her romantic partner to protect her will always remain my privilege and duty."

Remus and Richard stared each other down. The older man glared hard and unwavering, and Remus felt himself begin to falter, but he held his ground. He needed to convince this man that he wasn't going anywhere.

"I do still love her, and I promise to put her life before mine in all ways," he said. "I don't expect her to accept what little of myself I can offer to her forever. I expect that one day she'll realize that she's had enough and cut me out of her life, and when that time comes, I'll step out of it without protest.

"But for now, I have to remain by her side," he said ardently. He felt a fire in his chest. "As long as she is in even the slightest of danger, I'm going to be there to protect her, and if that means going against your wishes, then that's a risk that I'm going to have to take, sir."

Richard assessed him carefully and didn't speak. Remus felt his hands tremble slightly, but he sat tall, not breaking his eye contact with the older man.

Finally, Richard slowly nodded. His expression remained grave, but he felt there was an understanding between them. The tightness in his stomach released slightly.

"I see that I can't dissuade you," Richard said slowly. "But you will promise me that once this war is over, you will either make yourself scarce from Rowan's life or completely share in it. I will not stand for you to be in between." His nostrils flared with something akin to anger, and Remus was startled by the fire in the older man's eyes.

"I will not say it again: You will do the honorable thing by my daughter, so help me, or I will do everything in my power to see that you are forcibly removed from her life. I have no inhibitions, no boundaries when it comes to her happiness. Do you understand me?" he growled.

Remus was absorbed the implications of his words, frightened by the sudden ferocity there. But he pulled himself up and nodded to the older man.

"You have my word, sir."

* * *

When Remus and Richard entered the library together, Rowan felt slightly uneasy. The two men were silent, but they seemed to have a tense understanding shared between them. She was dying to know what they had talked about.

"All finished?" she asked curiously, and they both smiled warmly at her.

Richard clapped Remus hard on the back. "Yep, he's all yours," he said jovially, pushing Remus forward roughly. Remus stumbled forward, looking slightly flustered, and he grinned sheepishly at her with a strange awkwardness.

Richard walked over to Carole, who was seated at her desk, and looked at her fiercely, taking her hand in his. Rowan watched the silent exchange between the two and was filled with gratitude for her parents. As they walked the younger pair to the door and said goodbye, Carole hugged them both affectionately, and Richard shook Remus' hand firmly. They shared another serious, knowing look.

As her father stepped forward to hug her goodbye, she was suddenly filled with a strange ache. He held her longer, squeezed a little harder than usual, and when he pulled away, she couldn't help the empty feeling in her stomach. She looked at him searchingly and saw the gentlest expression there, and she suddenly was struck with an inexplicable fear.

"Better get going before it gets too late," he said softly, holding her face between his hands gently. She smiled jerkily in response, but it felt unnatural, forced. Her face burned as his large hands left it. As she turned towards the door with Remus, she had to look back. She gazed at her parents – old and gray – and tried to memorize their faces, every line, every aspect of their posture, their clothes. They waved goodbye to her, and as she and Remus Disapparated, she was filled with a terrible sense of dread.

* * *

Late the next night, Richard Delacroix sat in his office at the Ministry of Magic, swirling a glass of scotch on ice. He gazed around the room at the old leather seats and polished cypress wood furniture and smiled wryly: wood for the hero's death – how appropriate. He held his wand, also cypress, and ran his fingers over the handle, fingering the grooves and dips that he knew so well. It had been a vital part of him for so long, his loyal partner in all walks of life. He thought of John Potter, of Carole.

_One more battle, my friend,_ he thought. His wand seemed to vibrate in response.

He heard distant voices and took one more sip of his drink before setting it down. He straightened himself in his seat calmly as he heard the voices approach, footsteps pattering rapidly down the hall. Finally, the door burst open, revealing five men in dark robes and glinting silver masks. He looked at them almost amusedly.

"Only five?" he asked tauntingly. "I thought I would have at least warranted eight of you."

"Foolish last words, Delacroix," one said darkly. "You're not leaving here alive."

Richard smiled. "And neither are you, Lestrange," he said calmly.

Then before any of the Death Eaters could react, he tossed his glass into the air and threw a beam of light at it, shattering it into sharp blades, which then shot at the Death Eaters. The glass daggers pierced through their skin, earning loud cries of pain. One fell to the ground as he was stabbed through the leg. The one called Lestrange was pierced through the neck, and he collapsed gurgling and gasping up blood.

The room was filled with flashes of light, and Richard fell behind his desk to shield himself.

"_You'll die for this, old man!"_ the one with the injured leg shouted.

Richard laughed maniacally. "You first!" he shouted before ducking out from behind the table and throwing a green light at the collapsed Death Eater. He fell dead with a grunt.

_Three left,_ he thought.

The men erupted into shouts of anger, crashing into the furniture and moving towards the desk quickly. Lestrange continued to gurgle on the ground, writhing in agony. Richard sat behind his desk and took a deep breath. He looked up at his liquor cabinet and saw his scotch in its crystal bottle sitting on top. It glowed against the moonlight of the window, and he thought of the warm amber of his beloved Carole and Rowan's eyes. He smiled and closed his before holding his wand up. As the remaining three Death Eaters descended upon him, he thought of all the ways he was grateful. Fiendfyre burst from his wand.

The Death Eaters screamed in agony as the fire burned into their robes. The flames formed roaring wolves and lions, which consumed the wooden furniture around them, and Richard realized tiredly that he had made a grave miscalculation. He was much too exhausted to control them.

_You've gotten old, Richard,_ he thought to himself darkly.

"_I'll kill you, Delacroix! _I'LL KILL YOU!" one screamed, thrashing wildly with pain and trying to put out the fire.

Richard smiled to himself and leaned back against his desk.

"We'll all go down together," he said quietly.

As the room around them burned, he heard the sirens of the Fire Department but knew it was too late for all of them. The room was filled with smoke, and the windows burst from the flames. Every surface of the room seemed to be on fire. He felt the smoke fill his lungs, and his back burned agonizingly, but he was too tired to move.

One of the screaming Death Eaters tore off his robes and mask and stood in front of Richard with his wand drawn, teeth bared and eyes blazing in rage. His face, arms and chest were painfully burnt black and red, and Richard smelled the stench of burning flesh. He thought of his daughter.

_Have I avenged you yet, darling?_ he thought.

He smiled up at the dark wizard and closed his eyes, and as he saw the green light flash from behind his eyelids, he knew that he had lived and died honorably.


	25. Of Living By One's Creed

**A/N**: This is a long chapter and marks a bit of a turning point.

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed over the past few days! This story has more reviews than its prequel now, which strikes me as illogical, but I'm not gonna complain! THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

Also, I had no idea Richard's character was so popular... People were much more upset than I'd expected, so uh... sorry? And thank you! I'm very grateful and proud that my OCs have touched you in any way.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 25: Of Living By One's Creed**

The April afternoon was warm with a bright yellow sun. The trees were spotted with pink and white flower buds, just about to bloom. It all seemed highly inappropriate for the somber occasion.

Hundreds of witches and wizards in black robes sat and stood, many weeping, some with solemn expressions. The number of impressive figures in attendance was staggering, from the Minister of Magic to the Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Every member from the Order of the Phoenix was present. An official at the front of the congregation stood next to the closed casket and spoke eloquently of Richard Delacroix's life and accomplishments. He reverently placed a medal over the casket – the Order of Merlin, First Class. Rowan glared at it bitterly.

Alfred, Rowan and Carole sat in the front, all three dry-eyed and looking forward with fierce determination. Rowan's hands were clutched in her lap tightly, as were her mother's. Behind them sat all of her friends. James Potter looked forward with grief across his features while his wife Lily and mother Julia sobbed, grasping hands. Lyall Lupin, Sirius Black, Mina Surrey, and Peter Pettigrew sat still like solemn stones.

The only person whose gaze seemed to be averted from the casket in front was Remus Lupin, who sat beside Rowan. She didn't turn to look at him, but his gaze frequently flickered to see her anxiously. His hands gripped his knees almost painfully, as if forcing them to remain there, to not reach out and touch the young woman next to him. She didn't seem to notice.

As the Ministry official concluded, he gestured to Rowan, and the entire congregation turned to look at her. Rowan stood from her seat and moved to the front, desperately fighting her trembling hands. As she stood at the podium and gazed out on the sea of faces set in black, she felt her stomach tighten painfully. It seemed cruel for her father to put her through this after he'd already left her behind.

She took a shaky breath and looked up at the sky. It was bright and blue and clear, and she thought bitterly of the warm feeling she'd had just a couple weeks before - how could the promise of spring ever be so wrong? The parchment of her notes in her hands was wrinkled from her wringing. She gathered herself and then spoke:

"The Delacroix family has an ancient motto," she said shakily. Her voice sounded weaker than she would have liked, but as she cleared her throat, she realized somewhat sourly that it would remain that way.

"It states, 'Honor in bravery and justice for all.'" Rowan breathed deeply and imagined that her father's voice spoke from her mouth. "For years, I would listen to my father recite that creed, and for years, I would roll my eyes at what I thought was campy enthusiasm. It wasn't until I grew old enough to understand the evils of this world and see the darkness of these days with my own eyes that I truly understood the profundity of our family's motto.

"My father Richard lived everyday seeking justice, and he died with honor showing the purest of bravery. He was a man who defended the voiceless and demonstrated what it truly means to be a Gryffindor: loyalty to one's friends, courage in the face of darkness, and an unquenchable thirst to stand up for what is right.

"He was a loving husband, a doting father, and an irreplaceable friend. His passion for conquering the injustices of this world was only outmatched by the ferocity of his devotion to his loved ones. He worked tirelessly to see that the law was upheld, and he died a warrior's death, fighting until the very end."

Rowan searchingly looked out into the crowd, not really knowing what she was looking for. The expressions on the individual faces hadn't changed, and she felt empty.

"I can spend hours, days, telling you how much he meant to me and my family and how much he meant to the wizarding world, but I think the sheer number of people in attendance here today can testify to the kind of man that Richard Delacroix was. I knew him as a loving parent, but he was more than that. My father was a role model, someone whose aspirations and actions spoke of higher virtues and morals. He was a servant for the people, someone who stood for something greater than himself or the Delacroix family. It only seems appropriate that I speak to what he wished to see in the future for our community, not just the warm personal sentiments I have.

"He didn't want flowery words or declarations of praise. My father wanted justice. He wanted to put evil men behind bars and punish them for their crimes. It would be a lie for me to say that I don't want revenge for the terrible way that he died, but I can say that if he were still here, he would want to see justice upheld. He would want to end this war and bring peace back to the wizarding world."

She took another breath, her face burning at the shakiness of her voice, but she pulled all of the fire left in her forward.

"My father did what most are too afraid to do: he looked into the face of evil men and fought them publicly and proudly until he had nothing left to give. He lived as an avenger, and he died a hero's death."

The volume of her voice had increased, and she felt the flames running through her veins. She thought of her father, and the heat of his fiendfyre.

"I am proud to say that I am the daughter of the Delacroix family and that I will spend the rest of my life standing in the face of evil – even when I'm afraid and even when I think I have nothing left to give – because I know that my father died fighting for what he believed in. I will always think lovingly of the kind man who was my father, and I will always think proudly of the brave hero who was Richard Delacroix. And if he has touched any of your lives as well, I hope that the next time that you are faced with darkness, you will think of him and all of the ways that he fought for justice. Thank you."

She moved from the podium as soon as the last words left her mouth. She didn't look again towards the faces of the crowd and walked back to her seat quickly. As she sat, her mother grasped her hand tightly. They kept their gazes forward, but she knew that a chapter for both women had closed quietly in their hearts. And for both, there was much work to be done.

* * *

A solemn reception at the Delacroix Manor followed the funeral, and Rowan looked about bitterly at the numerous Ministry officials rubbing elbows with each other. They stood around the manor salon and chatted in hushed tones, though obviously very animatedly. It seemed shameful that they would use such an event to try and further their connections when one of their own had just died. She wanted to scream at them, to tell them to all leave.

"That was quite an impressive eulogy. You inherited your father's talent for public speaking, it seems."

Rowan's dark thoughts were broken by a hard voice, and she turned to see a man that she recognized from the newspapers and a few of the Ministry events her father had taken her to over the years – Bartemius Crouch Sr. He was a tall man with a serious expression, garbed in impeccably tailored dress robes and a narrow, toothbrush moustache. Though his words were of praise, she didn't feel complimented.

Next to him stood a handsome, lanky young man with straw-colored hair that she recognized as Barty Crouch Jr. He had been a couple of years behind her at Hogwarts in Slytherin. She noted that he had filled out slightly since the last time she'd seen him, dressed in just as sophisticated robes as his father. He had been a quiet and diligent student, a Prefect, and always a competitor for the top marks in his class but never one for the limelight. She'd spoken to him a few times while at school, and despite being a Slytherin, he'd seemed friendly enough. He'd never given her a reason to dislike him, unlike many of his other housemates.

"Mr. Crouch," she acknowledged with a curt nod. "Thank you very much for coming."

She held out her hand, which Barty Sr. shook firmly. He held a hard gaze with her, and she felt a strange fire in her chest as she looked back. It was as if he was trying to stare her down for some reason, and she was determined to match his intensity.

She then turned to his son, who smiled softly at her and extended his hand as well, though still firm his grasp was much gentler. The contrast between the two men was startling.

"It's good to see you again, Rowan," he said quietly. His face grew more solemn. "I'm very sorry about your father. He was a brave man," he said sympathetically.

"Thank you," she said, unsure of how to respond to him. He seemed much more confident than the last time they'd met. She had to pause to make sure he was the same boy she knew from school.

"I've been meaning to speak to you for a while now, Ms. Delacroix," Barty Sr. suddenly said very brusquely. She was slightly taken aback by his forwardness, but she held his gaze with as much poise as she could muster. She wasn't sure why, but she knew she couldn't lose face to this man.

"I apologize, Mr. Crouch. I was unaware of this," she said levelly.

"I understand that you were Damocles Belby's apprentice at the time of his death, were you not?" the Ministry official said. He stated it as a question, but she heard no real inquiry in it. It sounded more like an accusation.

Rowan felt her anger bubble at his rudeness but kept it from her voice. "That is correct," she said curtly.

"I need to know everyone that the apothecary dealt with during your time there. This means clients, suppliers, researchers – everyone you could possibly think of," he said quickly and coldly. His eyes bore into hers. "I will also need a complete inventory."

"I've already given all of our records to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Mr. Crouch, and I have testified to a series of Aurors my account of what happened the day of my master's murder. I believe that is under your department's jurisdiction, is it not?" she countered quickly.

He bristled noticeably. "There have been some… changes in policies recently with my appointment as the Head of the department," he answered carefully. "We are beginning a new investigation with new procedures – ones that I hope will yield more effective results. Therefore, I will once again be needing your full cooperation."

Rowan assessed the older man, and he seemed to size her up as well. She remembered her father's words about Mr. Crouch – that he was ruthless and willing to bargain with flunky Death Eaters if it meant getting to the bigger villains. She knew she had to tread carefully with this man. _  
_

"My father mentioned that some officials were considering offering suspects, uh, _certain liberties_ for the names of fellow Death Eaters," she said carefully.

Crouch Sr. nodded curtly and eyed her carefully. "Yes, we reason that if a felon gives the Ministry enough critical information about Death Eater activity and/or participants and is not an immediate threat, certain arrangements can be made to shorten incarceration time," he said fiercely.

There was a strange mania in the man's eyes, and Rowan felt icy dread crawl up her spine. It reminded her of Remus' dark looks after she'd been burnt. She felt incredibly uncomfortable knowing that this man was the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The thought of men like Karkaroff being given less than life in Azkaban was infuriating. She had to quell the surge of heat that shot up her back.

"I see," she said quietly. "I have to admit that I'm not entirely in agreement with this policy. I find it difficult to put my faith in a government that bargains with murderers."

The older man assessed her quietly, eyes scanning over her analytically, as if trying to determine her every weakness. She held his gaze steadily and held herself upright with squared shoulders. She would not be intimidated by this man.

"I'll also be on the case, Rowan," Barty Jr. piped in.

Rowan jerked her head to look at the young man. He was looking at her earnestly with a fire in his eyes, though softer than his father's. She looked at him searchingly, unsure of how to respond. He had always been a nice boy. She felt bad that such a gentle man had to endure such an incorrigible father. It seemed very wrong for such a person to be placed in Slytherin. She smiled softly.

"Yes, I'd heard that you'd also joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement this year," she said quietly. _Though it doesn't make much sense for someone like you to pursue such a career,_ she thought. He seemed much more suited for something like academia, something with books and old parchment. "I'm glad to know someone I can trust will be investigating the case."

He smiled warmly at her.

"I promise I'll do my best. I swear we'll catch the man who murdered Mr. Belby," he pledged fervently. She was quite taken aback by his eagerness. He'd never spoken to her in this way before.

Crouch Sr. looked between Rowan and his son, a calculating look spread across his features.

"You know," he started slowly, "Your father and I were good friends for years. We had often discussed how wonderful it would be to have our families better acquainted. After all, you and Barty are so close in age. It seems foolish that we never thought to introduce you two earlier on," he said carefully, looking at Rowan steadily. "And to have our families working so closely together... Great things could happen," he added cryptically.

Rowan heard the suggestion before Crouch Sr. could even squeeze the words out. She glanced at Barty Jr., who was looking slightly embarrassed at his father's shameless implications, though not displeased. The young man's face was slightly pink and looking at her cautiously.

"Yes, my father did mention it before," she answered slowly, keeping her gaze held with Barty Jr.'s. He stared back with a quiet intensity. "I also have thought that it was regrettable that we were never better acquainted. Two great houses - we could certainly benefit from each other."

She turned back to Crouch Sr. pointedly, who was still looking at her with that careful expression. They held gazes evenly for a silent moment before Crouch Sr.'s face broke into a slow grin.

"Well, then," he drawled, "No time like the present, is there?" He looked at his son with his triumphant smile, though his eyes bore into the younger man's. Rowan could nearly hear the older man's silent warnings to the younger. _Don't mess this up, boy._

"Yes," Barty Jr. said lightly, tearing his gaze from his father's and looking at Rowan. He smiled warmly. "Let me take you out to lunch sometime, as a family friend. We should make up for lost time," he said slowly.

Rowan smiled graciously, silently patting herself on the back for coming across this opportunity. "I would enjoy that very much," she said softly.

* * *

The Marauders had been watching the entire exchange between the Crouch men and Rowan from the corner of the salon with bated breath. The group's energy hummed anxiously as they saw angry sparks fly between Rowan and the older Crouch, and at the sight of the younger, Sirius had sourly muttered things under his breath like, "slimy Slytherin shit" and "Eyes on her face, you dickhead," as he and James never took kindly to Slytherins. Remus had gotten along decently with his fellow Prefect Barty Jr. while at Hogwarts despite his house placement, but as he saw the younger man smile at Rowan warmly, he couldn't help but agree with Sirius.

When they saw Crouch Sr. grin at Rowan, they'd all bristled uncomfortably. Even at a distance, they could see the scheming behind his eyes, and when Remus noticed the pointed glances he made between Rowan and his son, the light-haired Marauder felt his stomach twist painfully. The dark voice within him roared with anger.

"What? No, Winnie… You can't possibly…" James whispered as he saw Rowan scribble something on a piece of parchment and hand it to Barty Jr. When he saw the younger man smile brightly at her, he groaned, and Remus elbowed him sharply in the stomach to shut up. He grunted painfully.

Remus couldn't breathe. As he saw Rowan slip the piece of parchment into the man's hands, he saw her fingers purposefully graze his. She smiled warmly at the young Ministry official, and he in turn looked quite taken with her. Remus felt something tearing at his insides, thrashing wildly to be let out. He wanted to rip Bartemius Crouch Jr.'s eyes from his face so that he could never look at _his_ woman again.

As the two men turned to leave, she shook hands with them again. She nodded curtly to the older, noticeably shaking his hand with a vigorous grip. The younger grasped her small hand with both of his earnestly, and he held it a moment longer than necessary. Remus mentally noted that his hands would be the next body part to be torn away.

After Rowan was sure that they'd departed, they saw her visibly relax. It was as if all the air in her suddenly deflated. She closed her eyes and took a few deep shaky breaths, running a hand through her hair anxiously. When she opened her eyes back up, there was a renewed heat there. Remus could almost hear her hyping herself up mentally. She then turned on her heel and walked from the room.

"What the shit was that?" Sirius whispered with awe. "She couldn't possibly have just given her information to slithery Slytherin _Barty Crouch,_ right? Did I just imagine that?"

"I can't believe it either," James whispered. He looked confused and slightly angry. "Something's not right. She wouldn't have just agreed to something like that after having such an intense sparring with Crouch. There must be something else going on that we don't know. Maybe we're misreading things," he reasoned quickly.

"Yeah, maybe they're commissioning her for some potions or something," Peter reasoned. The others nodded, but it was obvious that none of the four actually believed it.

"You don't think Crouch blackmailed her, do you?" Sirius asked slowly.

The four looked at each other carefully. "No, Crouch is ruthless, but I can't think of any reason for that. He and our dads were mates," James said slowly. "I know that Richard had been trying to set her up with some young blokes at the Ministry, but I never thought she'd agree to go out with _Crouch _of all people," he muttered darkly.

James suddenly looked towards Remus with guilt. "I'm sorry, mate. I would've told you, but you two were broken up and all, and she was never interested in it, so I didn't think it was worth mentioning," he said quickly. His words dripped with apology. "And I can't really believe she'd go through with this. There must be a mistake," he reasoned.

Remus tried to stifle the anger that was threatening to burst. The monster in him was thrashing wildly. He bristled with barely contained rage.

"We should just go find Rowan and ask," Peter suggested. The three other men turned towards him with surprise. Even he looked startled at his own voice.

"You're right, Wormy," James said, slightly in awe of the smaller man's rare input. "Yeah, let's find her."

* * *

Rowan lay in the grass in the backyard alone, staring up at the blue sky. She noted that she'd have a hell of a time getting the grass out of her hair and robes when she got up and that it was highly irresponsible to leave her mother alone at her father's funeral reception, but the intensity of her conversation with the Crouch men had left her drained and in need of silence. The sky seemed so endless. She wanted to be swallowed by it.

The thought of going out on a few dates with Barty Jr. didn't appall her, but she wasn't thrilled about it either. He was a nice boy – intelligent, gentle, decently good-looking, and well-connected like her father had wanted. If she squinted hard enough, he could even resemble Remus slightly. Really, wasn't he a great potential partner? She grimaced. Yes, but she knew that despite all of his good points, he still wasn't Remus, and this was still going to inevitably end poorly.

All three members of the party seemed to understand the underlying implications of their conversation: Rowan wanted Crouch Sr. to ensure a life sentence for Karkaroff, and Crouch Sr. wanted an impressive pureblood partner for his son. It wasn't exactly a written contract and it was possible that Crouch Sr. was just giving her false hope without any intention of actually trying for a conviction, but if pretending to date Barty Jr. meant having even a slight hand in Karkaroff's case, then she'd do it without complaint. She felt bad towards Barty, but he seemed to understand and held no visible resentment. He'd seemed rather enthusiastic really. She wondered how long she'd have to keep up the charade before Crouch got a conviction for Karkaroff. She hoped that Barty wouldn't mistake their relationship for something genuine.

"There you are!"

Rowan inwardly groaned at James' voice. She wasn't dumb. She knew they'd all been watching her talk to the Crouch men, and she knew they were seeking her out for answers. They were the last people she wanted to see at that moment. Or rather, _Remus_ was the last person she wanted to see at that moment. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth for the coming interrogation.

She opened her eyes to see James and Sirius staring down at her. Remus and Peter stood behind James and Sirius respectively. They were all visibly upset. She closed her eyes, desperately not wanting to meet Remus' gaze.

"What?" she asked sharply.

"We want to know what the hell just happened in there," James said. She could hear petulance in his voice, which sent a small flicker of anger through her. She didn't have the patience for this today.

"I don't see how that's any business of yours. Isn't it rude to eavesdrop?" she asked shortly.

"We weren't eavesdropping. We just watched," Sirius reasoned, sounding indignant.

"Tomato, tomahto," she drawled.

"Answer the question, Rowan!" James demanded.

"Like I said, I really don't see how it's any of your concern," she replied haughtily.

Suddenly, her view went from blue sky to James. Her head spun from the sharp movement, as he yanked her up from the ground so that she was sitting up. She had to grip James' arms unsteadily to ground herself and find which was down.

"Winnie, _tell me_ you didn't just agree to go out with Barty Crouch, of all people!" he demanded quietly.

She felt heat flare in her chest brightly. He seemed to shrink away from her gaze slightly. "So what if I did?" she asked angrily. "I don't see how it's any of your fucking business!"

James' face also flared with anger at her tone. "Of course it's our business!" he retorted. "You're our best friend, and he's a Slytherin! If you're going to go out with someone, it should be because you want to, not because his father blackmailed you!"

"Who said anything about blackmail?" she spat angrily. "Maybe I'm just trying to find someone to settle down with. Maybe I'm trying to fulfill my dead father's wishes to marry well. Did you ever think of that?" She glared hard at him. "And so what if he's a Slytherin? He's a good guy – isn't that all that matters?"

James snorted. "Winnie, we_ all_ know you've never given a shit about 'marrying well,'" he responded derisively. "There's something going on between you and Crouch, and as your friends, we have the right to know!" He glared back. "And there's no such thing as a 'good Slytherin,'" he spat.

"Merlin was a Slytherin," she retorted defiantly. She felt like a petulant child for her insipid comment, but she was still feeling contrary from her conversation with Crouch, and James was quickly hacking away at her patience.

"Stop trying to defend him!" he barked angrily.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe I just _like_ the guy?" she shouted. They all looked disturbed at the suggestion. "Maybe I like him! Maybe I find him attractive, and you're hurting my feelings by saying all these terrible things when you don't even know him! Did you ever stop to think that perhaps I'm doing this because I want to?"

She was lying through her teeth, but if she told them her real reasons, the Marauders would make the boy's life a living hell and probably barge into Crouch Sr.'s office with threats. Shit, she knew they were probably going to torment the young Crouch anyway, but maybe they'd go a little easier on him if they believed that she actually was interested in him.

James looked murderous. He glared at Rowan with nostrils flaring. He looked as if he was struggling to keep his limbs in place, like he wanted to punch something.

"I know that's bull shit, Winnie, but if you want to keep lying to me, fine," he said quietly, bristling with fury. Guilt hit her as she saw the hurt in his eyes, but she kept her face straight. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this sooner or later, and if I find out that Crouch is doing something even slightly shady, he's going to pay," he said darkly.

His eyes searched her face thoroughly again, but she held fast and stared back, willing herself to not look away with guilt. His mouth twitched. _You win for now_. He stood and looked at Sirius. The two walked back into the house with Peter scurrying after them.

Rowan stared at the grass, berating herself angrily. She'd just hurt her oldest friend because she was dishonorably using someone to get revenge for her master's death and was too ashamed to admit it. Should she have told him? Would he have understood?

No. She knew he'd be too angry to see her reasoning behind it. He'd insist that she break her arrangement off with Crouch. He'd think that they could find a way to get Karkaroff behind bars honestly without the man's help. But she knew that James was too naïve, too honest to understand that sometimes nepotism and backhanded deals were the only way to achieve one's ends, that other people weren't as good as he and Lily were. She thought bitterly to herself that she was one of those people.

Suddenly, she saw a pair of black leather shoes step into her vision. She looked up and saw Remus looking down at her, smiling sadly. Her chest constricted painfully, and she couldn't meet his eye.

"Come on, let's go back inside. I'm sure your mother's looking for you by now," he said softly, extending his hand out.

She gazed at it warily, and the guilt that ate at her stomach seemed to multiply in mere seconds. She wanted to apologize to him, tell him that despite how it looked she loved him still, but she held her tongue. What did it matter if she still loved him? It wouldn't change anything between them. She took his hand carefully, trying not to pay attention to its warmth, and he pulled her to her feet with ease.

She stood in front of him, staring at his chest and avoiding his eyes.

"Hey, look at me," Remus said softly.

Rowan faltered, eyes darting upward slowly. It was painful, forcing herself to look up, but she finally met his gaze. He looked at her searchingly. She wanted to curl up and die with shame.

"You know what you're doing, right?" he asked quietly.

Rowan felt her mouth quiver and mentally kicked herself for slipping. He, of course, noticed, and his face melted darkly. She could see a flicker of anger there. She straightened her face and gathered her poise.

"Yeah," she said firmly. She didn't believe the tone of her own voice. "I have it all under control."


	26. Of Means to an End

**A/N**: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! Another longer chapter.

I've been listening to the "Colors" and "Decorate" by Yuna on repeat. Coincidentally, they both relate to the story I think. Also, she's a phenomenal singer-songwriter. You should go listen!

**S38:** So good to hear from you again! I'm so glad you're still reading! And yes, many things have changed _sigh_. But what will never change is my love for good old-fashioned UST hehe.

**snuffles95:** Thank you! I'm pretty excited about how Barty's character is going to play out. I've never heard of anyone else using him in such a way, so I'm pretty proud of myself tbh hehe. He's developing in an interesting way in my head. I can't wait for all of you to see his role play out.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW P-P-PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 26: Of Means to an End**

Rowan and Carole wept for days after Richard's death, quietly mourning in the privacy of Delacroix Manor. His body had been badly burnt, though not to the same extent as Belby's. The Healers informed them that he'd died of the Killing Curse, not his burns, and Rowan was strangely grateful - perhaps he hadn't suffered too much before his death. They buried him quietly in Godric's Hollow next to John Potter. She thought that perhaps if she listened hard enough, she could hear the two reunited friends laughing from the next plane.

Richard's office had been burnt beyond recognition. The cypress furniture had been blackened and charred, though the spaces around his office had remained intact - he had set up protection spells around it to contain the damage, and Rowan realized bitterly that he had known his time was coming. She thought back to his gentle behavior the last time she'd seen him and knew that had been his final goodbye. She almost resented his faultless bravery, wished that he'd been able to swallow his pride and request help from the Order but knew that it was exactly how he'd want to die - fighting till the very end. She thought of the five Death Eaters who had perished in the fire along with him and mentally spat on their memories with great relish.

Rowan spent much of her time after in her father's study at home, going through his belongings and quietly cherishing every piece of him she could find. She found that he had kept every card, every silly drawing or memento that she'd given him as a child in an enchanted bottomless box within his desk. All of her report cards, letters from school, and photos of her throughout the years were bound neatly in the box. She cried over them, clutching each desperately. She wondered if her tears would reach the bottom of the box – would they find her father there?

After the funeral, Rowan didn't see her mother cry again. She took on a hard, determined look, often disappearing into the library or her bedroom for long periods of time. Rowan imagined that she needed time to grieve alone and didn't seek her out. Carole took care of all of Richard's final affairs without accepting help from her daughter, and Rowan wondered if this was her mother's way of holding onto her father. As she walked through the long halls of their home, she wondered if she would be able to eventually inherit it without bitterness.

Remus came and went frequently as he had when Belby had died, though he had taken on a new determination that Rowan had never seen in him. There was a fire there that had been absent before her father's death. She reasoned that he was probably just feeling more protective – after all, it wasn't unreasonable to think that the Death Eaters would pursue Richard's family next as their attack had actually been a great loss for them – but there was something else there, something she couldn't name. She wanted to ask him, but he hadn't pestered her to talk about her mourning, so she reasoned that if he wanted to discuss this new determination, he would.

But still, the days felt lonelier than ever now that Richard Delacroix was no longer in the world. She wondered if her mother cried as she lay in bed alone and knew that the older woman's loneliness was probably one thousand times heavier than her own. Her heart ached. She prayed silently that whomever was struck next wouldn't be taken with fire and smoke as well.

In her moments of mania, she'd begun moving her potion making equipment into the manor basement and ordering new ingredients. Carole and Alfred had encouraged her to finally restart her research there – the space was large and well-equipped already for fumigating and light adjustment, and the floors and walls were sturdy with protected stone so spilled liquids wouldn't do much damage. It all seemed like the perfect place – why hadn't she seen it before?

She'd finally organized the box of remaining research material that Fabian had saved from the fire. There was a good amount – amazing, really. She knew that it would take quite a bit of time to make up for what was lost, but she could remember most of the more important details. She was also eternally grateful that her mother's binder of notes remained in her flat. It was just a matter of going through the procedures again, finding the exact numbers and values. The fire in her began to burn again.

But the immediate issue pressing on Rowan's mind was her arrangement with Barty Crouch. Barty Jr. owled her a few days after speaking to him at her father's funeral reception about taking her out to lunch as he'd promised. She noted sadly that his handwriting was similar to Remus' – graceful and small - and wrote back in a false tone of cheeriness that she'd love to join him.

In her quiet solitude, she thought sadly of what her father would say if he were still alive. He'd definitely see through her ruse, she thought bitterly. She was beginning to see that she took after him much more than she'd thought - her scheming had finally reached a level comparable to his own. However, her stomach clenched painfully knowing that he was probably rolling in his grave - he wouldn't have wanted this. He would've done everything in his power to pull favors with Crouch himself so that she wouldn't have to get her own hands dirty. Her throat squeezed - but he wasn't here anymore, was he? _I have to do this, Dad,_ she would pray silently. _You understand, right?_

Her mother had been shocked, to say the least, when she told her that she had agreed to go out with the younger Crouch. Carole eyed her warily, and Rowan had a sneaking suspicion that the older woman knew what she was up to, though she didn't say anything. She didn't give the tentative relationship her blessing, nor did she rebuff it, but it was apparent to Rowan that she wasn't pleased. It somewhat relieved her to know that her mother would probably step in and object to the relationship if things started getting out of hand for whatever reason.

Alfred _definitely_ saw through her plans though. He'd slapped her on the back of the head roughly and yelled at her for a solid ten minutes. She hadn't had the nerve to fight back and sat on her bed silently with head bowed, accepting his anger with resignation. She pathetically felt like she was a small child again, caught red-handed in one of her little pranks. But this wasn't just a prank anymore, and Alfred's anger wasn't laced with amusement. She was a woman now, and her uncle-figure was very aware of the position she was placing herself in. As she apologized weakly with heaviness, he'd seemed to be overtaken with rage and stormed out of her room. He didn't speak to her for days after, and it hurt her deeply - he'd never been so angry with her before. When he began speaking to her again, he made no mention of their previous conversation, but she'd still catch him eyeing her warily with a mixture of grief and anger. Her stomach seemed to be in a constant state of tension.

James and Sirius' anger, however, had seemingly subsided, but they continued to grill her with questions about the details of her first date with Barty. She ignored their interrogations, feeding them blatant lies about where they were going or when, and they seemed to be on the verge of giving up, though she also caught them at various times scheming something. She was mildly worried about what they were up to.

Lily and Mina had been more tactful about approaching the subject with Rowan, working their way up to it and asking delicately about Barty. Rowan spoke kindly about the young man but steered the conversation away from him as quickly as she could. She could see Mina's rapidly growing frustration with her reticence and worried momentarily that she would blow up at her like James had, but Lily luckily kept their friend from pushing her any further. She felt grateful towards the redhead – she could always count on her to be polite.

Remus had been the most difficult to deal with, though he hadn't actually given her any reason to feel that way. He hadn't treated her any differently than before, but every now and then, she'd catch him staring at her with the most heartbreaking expression that she'd ever seen. On a few occasions, she'd had to excuse herself to get a grip on her bearings before coming back out to face him again. There were so many reasons she wanted to give him, so many things that he didn't understand, but she knew that if she told him, he'd get angry at her recklessness and demand that she put an end to her backhanded scheming. She mused darkly that perhaps she should have been the one put into Slytherin, not Barty.

As she looked at Remus with guilt, she reasoned that she had really arrived at this point because of her devotion to him. After all, she'd sought out Damocles Belby so that she could relieve Remus of his condition one day. And if it weren't for her loyalty to Belby, she wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Shouldn't that relieve her a bit, knowing that she was in fact helping him by hurting him?

_No_, she thought bitterly. The only people who benefitted from this terrible scheme were herself and Barty Crouch Sr.

* * *

It was sunny and warm again, a beautiful mid-April afternoon. Rowan gazed at the sky as she walked slowly down the streets of Diagon Alley. There was a sour taste in her mouth. Why was it that the most beautiful of days always seemed to be marked with bitterness, recently?

As she approached the café that Barty had specified, she noted that she was a few minutes late. She hated tardiness, but there was something about this entire ordeal that had made her not want to leave her apartment until the very last moment. But she'd dragged herself out and into the sun in some girly dress that her mother had bought her once upon a time. She'd even gone so far as to put on a little makeup and a few styling charms on her hair. She felt utterly ridiculous.

She saw Barty's straw-colored hair as she approached, seated at an outside table beneath a large, charming umbrella. She noted that the entire setting was all very charming, and that she should _feel_ charmed, but all she could find was resignation. It was nearly humorous, really. It all seemed like a cruel prank, like she'd lost some bet to James and this was her strange punishment. He certainly would enjoy mocking her by forcing her into a dress.

But as Barty turned towards her, she realized that she was no longer a child playing games with her best friend, and this terrible scheme could actually hurt people - people like Barty, like Remus. Her throat clenched, but she forced a smile across her face that even she had to admit was pretty damn convincing. He beamed at her and stood politely as she approached the table, and she quickly pushed back every feeling of dread or remorse. She prayed that she could at least make it past the first date without completely falling apart.

* * *

A group of four men carefully eyed the handsome couple at the outdoor table from inside the café, all with murderous expressions on their faces. James Potter and Sirius Black chomped on breadsticks furiously as they watched Barty stand to greet Rowan, kissing her chastely on the cheek, which she accepted gracefully.

"That fucking slimy git. If he doesn't quit touching her, I'm going to kill him," James seethed, mouth full of bread.

The pair talked amiably over the menus. Barty gestured to something, and she leaned forward. He also leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together as he pointed to an item on her menu. She smiled and nodded and touched his hand flirtatiously. Sirius choked slightly on his bread, coughing up a few pieces into Remus' face, who swatted them away with annoyance before looking back outside.

Someone suddenly stepped into their view, and they groaned loudly at the source of the obstruction. A frightened looking waitress stared back at them, unsure of how to proceed.

"Umm… Are you ready to order?" she squeaked, glancing carefully around the table. The three taller men seemed quite distracted, craning their necks desperately around her to see the couple outside.

Peter looked around at them. James and Sirius were on the edge of their seats, and Remus had a frigid look in his eyes that made Peter's blood freeze over. He was beginning to fear that they were going to do something severely stupid. He sighed with resignation.

"I think I'm just going to order for the whole table," he said to the young woman, looking at her apologetically. She nodded and smiled weakly before leaning down to hear the young man's order.

* * *

When he'd watched her and James argue at the Delacroix Manor, Remus had been nearly deaf. He'd seen the fire in her eyes, and despite all of her protests, he knew James was onto something. There was something terribly wrong about what had occurred between her and the Crouch men, and though he desperately wanted to know what she was planning, he forced himself to trust that she knew what she was doing. Hadn't she always wanted him to trust her, after all?

He had originally felt incredibly guilty when James and Sirius had declared that they should find out where Rowan was going on her first date with the young Crouch, but when Alfred had offered the information so willingly, it was hard to _not_ go. But now that he saw them together, Remus was trying desperately hard to not storm outside and bash Barty Crouch's face into the table until it was bloody. It was taking all of his willpower to not listen to the dark voice roaring inside of his head, demanding that he show the newcomer _exactly_ to whom Rowan belonged. He wanted to follow the skirt of that dress up and press himself against her, inside her, prove to her that she belonged with _him_ and not this well-dressed man-boy.

He watched her smile and speak engagingly with the other man and felt a surge of raw jealousy racing through his blood. When she'd arrived, he could tell that her smiles had been forced, but as they had continued to talk, he saw sincerity there. When she reached forward to touch his hand, he saw red. It made him want to smash the table into pieces.

Had he been wrong? Had she been telling the truth when she said that she was interested in Barty Crouch? He was handsome in his own way, and if Remus thought about it objectively, they made an impressive couple. But he was too young, too inexperienced, Remus thought. He was still a boy, not nearly man enough to handle a woman like Rowan Delacroix. She was fire and electricity, and this _boy_ was delicate hands and rich fabrics. What did he know about courting a woman like her?

He wanted to pull her away from this damned café, drag her to his apartment and take her until she was too sore to move and could think of nothing but him. He wanted her to forget that there was anyone else, that Barty Crouch even existed. And as he saw her smile at the other man, he wanted desperately to think that she was thinking of him instead.

* * *

Rowan had to admit that she was actually enjoying herself. Barty was an engaging conversationalist with a funny sense of wit and incredibly knowledgeable in many areas. Though he couldn't understand the more advanced concepts, he'd been able to keep up with her potions jargon when he'd asked about her research, and when she'd inquired about his Ministry work, he'd impressed her with his understanding of the judicial system. Though there wasn't much chemistry there, she could see herself being good friends with him. It was certainly much better than she'd prepared for.

He had nice brown eyes, she noted. He didn't have the same masculine jaw or chiseled cheekbones as Remus, but there was certainly something kind about him. She wished that she had more female friends that she could eventually set him up with after she ended their charade.

He, surprisingly, seemed to be on the same page.

"You know, I don't actually expect anything to come of this," he said suddenly.

Rowan choked slightly on her water and looked up at him, face reddening at her lack of poise.

He smiled sheepishly at her, and she looked at him with confusion. "I mean, I know that you're just dating me to get to Karkaroff, and I can't blame you. The man is filth," he said. He spat the last sentence so venomously that Rowan wondered if she'd misheard him.

"No, Barty-" she started, but he shook his head and interrupted her.

"No, it's all right," he said consolingly. "I completely understand. Honestly, the fact that I can get my father off my back about my love life is good enough for me. Really, you're doing _me_ a favor," he said jokingly. He grinned at her, and she grimaced back apologetically.

"I'm really sorry, Barty," she admitted guiltily. "I do like you a lot, and I think maybe under different circumstances we could've maybe tried something, but-"

"But I'm not Lupin," he finished kindly.

Rowan felt her stomach twist at the thought of Remus. She was suddenly reminded of how wrong this entire situation was. His gaze softened.

"It's okay, Rowan," he said kindly. "I'd be an idiot to not to notice. I'm not bitter or anything."

Rowan frowned and held his gaze. She felt slightly confused as she sorted out her thoughts.

"But I have to warn you," he said more seriously. Rowan bristled at his tone. "My father isn't like yours - he doesn't care about honor or anything so virtuous. He'll listen to what you have to say, but that doesn't mean he'll go through with it. If he thinks making a deal with Karkaroff will get him good information, then he'll do it. I don't want you getting your hopes up only to see him go back on his word. You might not come out of this with anything to show for it."

Rowan grimaced. "Yeah, I know," she said sullenly, "but it's better than nothing, isn't it? At least this way I'll know that he's actually heard my concerns. It's better than just sitting around and waiting." He assessed her quietly and nodded.

"So where does that leave us then?" she asked carefully.

Barty shrugged and played with his teacup idly. "I don't mind continuing the act for now. It's suiting both of us well enough, and I genuinely enjoy your company. I also have to admit that there are certainly perks to having a beautiful woman on my arm as well," he said cheekily.

Rowan laughed heartily, feeling incredibly relieved. A weight was suddenly lifted, and she felt ten times lighter. She smiled at Barty gratefully, who grinned back.

"So do you want to go through this?" he asked warmly. He extended a hand. "Be my fake girlfriend?" he asked cheekily.

It all seemed too good to be true. She laughed again and grasped his hand in both of hers. "Yes, defini-"

Suddenly there was a loud crash of broken china and a flurry of limbs. Rowan and Barty's attention jerked towards the café, and, through the window, they saw a certain dark-haired man with coffee dripping over his head and a very panicked waitress rushing around him with napkins and wand waving, sputtering nervous apologies.

"You have to be kidding me," she breathed, feeling murderous.

There at an indoor table were seated the four Marauders, all gaping at her like deer in headlights. Sirius Black's hair and shirt were dripping with brown liquid. He looked mortified. Her anger surged forward, up her spine and into her throat. She felt herself move to stand with the fire shooting through her legs, but before she could, a hand covered hers. She looked across and saw Barty looking at her sympathetically.

"Why don't we go to the Leaky Cauldron instead? Your friends seem to need some explanations," he said softly. She felt her anger bubble still, but nodded her head before she could make a spectacle of herself. She turned on the four men inside with barely controlled rage.

"Come on, you shitheads!" she called angrily. "We're going to the Leaky Cauldron!"

* * *

The Marauders all stared disbelievingly at Rowan and Barty as they finished recounting their agreement. Rowan thought it would have been humorous under different circumstances, but she still felt angry with the four men for spying on her. She was particularly surprised at Remus, who had seemingly been very understanding. Seeing him with the other three proved that he had, in fact, still not trusted her. She wasn't sure if she should be angry at their blatant disrespect for her and Barty or flattered that they cared so much to go to the trouble.

"So… it's fake? All of this?" James said slowly.

Rowan groaned with exasperation and took an unladylike swig from her butterbeer to prevent herself from hitting him. How thick could he possibly be? She'd explained all of it very clearly, point by point. She couldn't understand how it was so difficult for him to understand. Her stomach growled. Damn the Marauders for interrupting her lunch date!

"I still don't really see how _you're _benefitting from all of this," Sirius bit out at Barty, glaring him down. Barty looked unperturbed, but Rowan felt angry on his behalf. "I mean, Rowan is getting her master's murderer into prison, but what do you get – less heckling from dear old daddy? Hardly seems fair," he said suspiciously.

Barty shook his head. "It's really much more than that. I mean, you're a Black – you know how much pressure it is for a pureblood lineage son to marry well. It's all my damn father ever talks about," he said bitterly. Rowan saw anger flit across his face and realized morosely that maybe they had more in common than she'd originally thought.

"I know it's hard to trust me because I was in Slytherin and all, but really, I couldn't care less about house reputations and the like," Barty continued. He smiled thinly.

"Also," he continued. His expression suddenly contorted, and Rowan was taken aback by the ferocity in his features. The rage there seemed unnatural, twisting his face strangely with anger. "If my stupid father does listen to Rowan, I'll get to see Karkaroff put into prison. If there's anything I detest, it's cowardly Death Eaters who try to get out of their just desserts by ratting out other Death Eaters. It makes me _sick_ knowing that he could get out of a conviction."

As he spoke, Rowan could almost see the venom dripping from his lips and for a moment felt slightly afraid. He didn't look anything like the gentleman that she'd conversed with in the sunlight. His features suddenly looked quite menacing. It was dark and sinister. The cold fear she felt in the middle of the night crept up her spine.

But then suddenly it was gone, and her engaging companion was back. It was as though it had all been in her head. But she couldn't have imagined it… right?

But the Marauders didn't seem perturbed at all – James, Sirius, and Peter seemed quite convinced, actually. They were all nodding fiercely at his indignation towards Death Eaters in agreement. Rowan looked around at them. Had they not seen the darkness there?

She turned to Remus, and across his face was etched a frown. He seemed to be sizing up the other man, eyes scanning over his appearance with scrutiny. Finally, he noticed that Rowan was staring at him. She jerked slightly at being caught, but he smiled gently, a little sheepishly. She suddenly felt very safe and warm.

"Rowan," Barty called. She turned to see him looking at her with light concern and warmth. There was no sign of any of anger there – she must have just imagined it. "Do you still want to go through with this?" he asked.

She forced her gaze to remain on him, consciously making an effort to not look at Remus. "Yeah," she said smiling. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

As Rowan and the Marauders waved goodbye to Barty Crouch outside of the Leaky Cauldron, she watched him smile and Disapparate on the spot. She felt slightly comforted at the sight of his friendly face. When she knew that he was gone, she turned on the remaining four men and glowered. They cowered under her intensity.

"Don't think for a minute that I've forgiven you lot for this mess," she threatened quietly. "You nearly fucked up a golden opportunity for me. You are so _fucking _lucky that Barty was understanding about all of this, or I don't know if I'd ever be able to forgive you." Her anger was bubbling hotly again, but she willed it down.

"Winnie, we're really sorry, but you have to understand," Sirius reasoned weakly. "We were just worried about you! Please, you have to know that it's because we care about you!"

The rest nodded rapidly in agreement, and she felt her blood cool to a simmer, but she was still dangerously angry. She couldn't find the words to express her rage fully.

"Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind. I don't want to see any of your faces until our weekly, got me?" she commanded. Peter, James, and Sirius nodded quickly. She glared at them one more time before turning on her heel and quickly starting down the busy street in the direction of her flat.

She knew that Remus had followed, however, and knew with growing frustration that she wouldn't be able to shake him off until she heard him out. Finally, he caught up to her but remained silent for a few minutes, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"What?" she bit out at him, turning on him suddenly and stopping.

He flinched slightly at her tone and then looked at her apologetically. He didn't answer for a moment, and her anger rose to her throat again. She was about to storm off and leave him there when he finally spoke.

"I really am sorry, Winnie," he said quietly. "I just…" he trailed off, looking around him as if the words would appear out of thin air. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. The sun glinted off of the strands of gray. He then looked at her with a pained look. It made her chest constrict.

"I still love you," he declared.

The bluntness of his statement knocked the wind out of her. She stared at him dumbly, and he grimaced. The sun suddenly felt much hotter.

"I can't help it," he said softly. "And I guess seeing you with someone else, even if it was an act… It was harder than I'd expected. And it made me realize that the next time it happens, it'll be real, and I fucking hate it," he said bitterly.

Rowan looked at him sadly, her breath catching in her chest. She wanted to reach out to him, but it felt inappropriate. They'd drawn a line that shouldn't be crossed. Hadn't today emphasized that?

"I know," Rowan said quietly. "I still love you too. I probably always will," she admitted. His grimace deepened with his despair.

"But I know why you can't be with me, and even if I think it's total rubbish, I realize now that there's nothing I can do to convince you otherwise," she said quietly. The ache still lingered, but she gathered her courage.

"A part of me get so angry," she said bitterly. "A part of me doesn't think you have the right to get jealous when _you_ were the one who left _me._" His face contorted with guilt, and she felt bad momentarily, but it was the truth. "But I understand - at least as well as anyone can I guess.

"But I've decided that I can't wait for you forever," she said firmly.

She looked at him hard. It seemed as if would dissolve away at any moment with hurt, and though her chest twisted painfully, she willed herself to continue.

"I will never get over you – that much is clear to me. And you will _always_ be my best friend and welcome to share in my life, but if I don't owe it to myself, I at least owe it to my father to try to be happy," she said. Her voice shook, and she hated herself for her weakness, but she stood strong and didn't break her gaze from his.

"I don't think I have it in me to try anytime soon," she admitted sadly. "But one day, I'll realize that I'm through with waiting for you to finally see that I'm worth taking a risk and that I need to move on, and even if my relationship with Barty is a farce, I think it'll help prepare me for that day."

Remus' face contorted with guilt and grief, lips twitching with effort, and she had to force herself to not regret her words. They were true, after all, and even if she hated that she'd been pushed to this point, she was determined to make the most out of her life, whether he wanted to be a part of it or not. Hadn't she been more than patient, more than understanding? Hadn't she been lonely and waiting long enough?

Finally, his expression settled into a sad smile. "I understand," he said quietly.

She felt a sharp pang of grief shoot through her. She knew it was the height of foolishness, but a part of her had still hoped that he'd object to her declaration of independence, that he'd realize that he couldn't stand the thought of her being with anyone else. But it was very clear now how set he was in his decision, and she had to force the stinging heat at the back of her throat down. She forced a weak smile and continued walking. He followed. They didn't speak for the rest of the way back to her flat.

When they arrived, she pulled out her key and looked at him hesitantly. She'd arrived home, but he still remained standing there with her. She didn't know what to do or say. Was he expecting to come in with her?

He was gazing down at her with furrowed brows and a twisted mouth, and she felt herself burn under his scrutiny.

Finally, he reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The sensitive skin of her ear burned. He smiled gently.

"I know how much you hate it, but it was nice seeing you in a dress today," he said softly, teasingly.

She grimaced slightly. "Oh Merlin, I can't wait to take this bloody thing off and wipe the paint off my face," she groaned.

He grinned lightly at her reaction and looked at her fondly, and though her chest still ached painfully, she smiled up at him. They shared a moment of silence before he spoke again.

"Better get inside and change then. And be sure to let me know if you're planning on going out at night, okay?" he said softly.

Rowan nodded. "I will," she promised before opening the door. She opened it and moved inside but looked back again. He stood there still gazing at her warmly with a tinge of sadness, and she had to bite back the tears that suddenly threatened to emerge. She wanted to beat herself for being so emotional around him still.

"Well then… Bye, Remus," she said softly.

He nodded. "Goodbye, Winnie."

* * *

A large dark snake dragged slowly across a long ebony wood table within a dark hall – a red tongue poking from a thick tendril of smoke and ink. Her master sat at the head, white skin glowing in the faint light against the darkness of his robes. He gazed tenderly at his pet, eyes meeting hers. The sound of slow footsteps met the stillness of the room, matching their rhythm to the snake's slow pull.

As the snake approached the dark figure, he held out a long-fingered hand, and she slithered her way up his arm, wrapping her thick body around the back of the chair and over his shoulders.

"How was your day, my boy?"

The dark wizard's voice caressed the stillness smoothly. It secreted out in a high tone, almost saccharinely.

The footsteps stilled as the tall, slender young man approached his master. His straw-colored hair glimmered in the faint evening light that spilled in from the high windows. He smiled.

"Quite excellent, my Lord. I had a wonderful lunch date with a young woman this afternoon – the Delacroix girl," he said, grinning.

The pale wizard's eyes glinted. He smiled, a slow pull of pale lips across yellow teeth.

"Really?" he drawled with amusement. "Interesting... Quite the impressive family, the Delacroixs... Pity about her father. He was such a _great_ man." He grinned leeringly. "Do you plan on seeing her again?" he inquired curiously.

"Oh yes," the young man answered cheerily. "We have a lot in common I think. I also had the good fortune of meeting some of her friends today. It had been a while since I'd last seen James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew," he listed carefully.

The yellow grin broadened.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Pettigrew. I've heard good things about him from a certain friend recently. I do so hope to meet him sometime in the near future. Will you be introducing me to your lady friend as well?" he asked.

"I do hope so," the young wizard answered, fire flickering in his brown eyes. "She's quite the spirited one. I think you'll like her."

He nodded and smiled wryly. "Be careful of beautiful women, my lad. They can be quite deceptive, you know," he said. The young man laughed.

The dark wizard brought his hands together thoughtfully, long fingers dancing amongst themselves. He smiled again.

"Well then, we'd better start planning. It would be _so_ embarrassing to be ill-prepared as hosts," he said.

His servant smiled.

"Anything you desire, my Lord."


	27. Of Weakness That Eats the Heart

**A/N**: I'm interested in flower symbolism. _Hint._

Also, I know that David Tennant plays Barty Crouch in the movies, and he's one hell of an actor, but I can't help but think of the beloved Tenth Doctor when I picture him in my mind. It makes it hard to imagine him as an antagonist because I love him so much… T-T

**WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 27: Of Weakness That Eats the Heart**

Peter stood in the private Gringotts Wizarding Bank treasure vault. It was a vast, windowless hall with high ceilings, extending for a great distance from the bottom of a grand staircase. All around him was an assortment of rare and wondrous artifacts, ranging from towering statues of jade to silver cages of invisible singing birds. It was a treasure hunter's wonderland.

However, Peter had his eyes set on only one thing: a tall mirror set in bronze, which stood in the middle of the vault.

Peter stood in front of the mirror, gazing into it with deep rapture. He had been there several times now. He had found no indications of it possessing any curses or protective charms, but every time he saw it, he found himself needing to come back again, and when he was elsewhere, the memory of his reflection haunted his every thought.

But it wasn't his reflection.

The first time he'd gazed into the mirror, he'd jumped with fear, taken off guard by the figure staring back at him. When he realized that the figure was in fact _him_ and not a sudden stranger, he felt his blood run cold, shame suddenly swelling in his chest. He'd spun around wildly to see if there was anyone behind him, to ensure that no one else could see what was reflected there.

The man he saw in the mirror was tall, slender, and handsome. He stood with squared shoulders and a raised chin, which seemed much more chiseled, more square than his own round features. But as he raised his hands to touch his face, he saw his reflection raise its hand as well. Beneath his fingers, he felt the roundness of his own face, the softness there, but in his reflection, he saw his hands meet carved features, rugged jaw and cheek. As he watched this phantom follow his every movement, he could almost believe that it was really him.

But then he looked down and saw that he was still very round, still soft and unimpressive, and a desperate ache suddenly shot through him. He looked frantically back at the mirror. A chaotic mixture of relief and despair swirled in his chest at seeing that the handsome man still stared back at him. Even the reflection's posture and movements were more impressive than his own.

Why was it showing this to him? Did this mirror simply torment its viewer with the one thing he could never have?

"It's haunting, isn't it?"

He spun around wildly and saw a beautiful woman standing at the top of the stairs. She wore luxurious silks in deep gem tones, which seemed to drip from her lithe form. Her full lips were stretched into a knowing smile, set against pale skin and thick waves of dark hair. Peter's face burned. Under her warm gaze, he felt infinitely shabbier than before.

"M-Ms. Eripice! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you were there!" he squeaked weakly.

She smiled at him but didn't respond and floated down the stairs, holding his gaze. He felt so small, like her gaze might consume him. He couldn't seem to find his voice.

"I see you've taken a liking to the Mirror of Erised," she said smugly as she approached him. Her hips swayed as she walked, and he had to force his eyes to remain on her face.

"Y-yes, it's fascinating! You've truly found a great treasure this time, ma'am," he squeaked. Her eyes burned into him.

"Please, Peter, it's Eris. There's no need for such formalities with me," she said softly. She raised a pale, graceful hand to his arm and ran it slowly down. It burned through his robes. He shivered.

"What do you see?" she asked softly.

His eyes widened. "In the mirror?" he asked disbelievingly. "You mean… You can't see it?" he breathed. He felt his tension lessen slightly, but the coil in his stomach was still wound tightly.

She smiled and looked at the mirror. He kept his gaze on her. He couldn't bring himself to look back at the handsome man there. She would be able to read his face, see his shamelessness.

"No, the viewer can only see themselves there. One cannot see what another sees," she said softly, eyes scanning over the mirror calmly. A flicker of heat ran across her face, and Peter felt that pull towards her again. Her lips were stained red against her smooth skin. He wanted to reach forward and touch it.

"What does it do?" he asked, soft awe in his voice.

She smiled but remained gazing at the mirror.

"It shows the user his greatest desire," she said softly. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her expression held the look of a quietly passionate lover, and he suddenly wanted her to turn and look at him.

"What do you see?" he asked. _Who?_ As soon as the question left his mouth, he felt embarrassed. His face burned.

But she turned, and he saw that heavy look in her eyes. The heat rushed to his face. Her eyes were warm, and for a moment, his mind thought of Rowan and the burning look on her face as she'd gazed at him that cold night in February.

She ran her eyes slowly, painfully, scraping down his form, and he felt as if every inch of his body was exposed to her. His neck was scalding, and he couldn't breathe. When she met his gaze again, she smiled slowly, a lustful tug at the corner of her red lips. He felt an ache shoot through him as she reached forward and grasped his hand with her own. Her fingers were warm against his. Her heat seared into his blood.

She pulled him forward slowly so that he stood in front of her before the mirror but kept her eyes on his. He felt her press her form softly into his back and her warm breath on his neck. Her fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping gently. He had to suppress a shiver. Her eyes burned into him, flickering down to his mouth. He licked his lips nervously and trembled. Her face was so close to his, so strangely familiar.

"What do you see in the mirror?" she whispered. Her words grazed his lips, and his breath came out in short pants. He felt her fingers slowly press into his neck, guiding his head gently to turn and face his reflection.

His breath completely left him. The air was squeezed from his lungs, coming out in a spurt of wind and gasps.

The handsome man from before stood there, and draped over his shoulders was a pair graceful pale arms. But from behind him burned glowing amber eyes.

Rowan.

Peter couldn't breathe. Rowan smiled at him from the mirror, bright and full of heat. He saw and felt her hands tangle in his hair and across his chest. A whimper tore from his throat. She laughed breathily against his neck - the soft chiming of a bell. He shivered.

"Peter," she whispered.

As he saw his name fall from her lips, her gaze scorched him to the core. His hands trembled at his sides.

Then he felt the grip in his hair tighten gently, his head tilting back, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Rowan's gaze. She held it, rising up and leaning forward. Her eyes burned into muscles and bones, like firewhiskey and warm honey, and as her lips met his, all he could hear was the sound of his own rushing heart.

* * *

It was a beautiful yellow day in London. A soft melancholy melody wound slowly around a brownstone apartment building, and several people slowed to hear it as they walked past. A handsome young man with straw-colored hair stood on its front stoop, a bouquet of brightly colored begonias in his hand. He closed his eyes and listened to the sweet sounds of the violin for a moment, breathing in the warm May sun. It certainly was a wonderful day to be alive. He smiled softly to himself before scrolling down the list of residents and ringing the button next to the name "Delacroix."

* * *

At the sharp knock at her door, Rowan finished placing her violin carefully into its case, though her bow remained in her left hand. She hurried to open the door and saw Barty Crouch standing there, a bright smile and a bouquet of flowers hanging at his side from his fingers. She smiled warmly and stood aside to let him in.

"This is a surprise. I certainly wasn't expecting company," Rowan said warmly.

He gazed around her apartment as he removed his shoes, flowers tucked under his arm.

"I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hello," he said kindly. As he popped the last shoe off, he turned and presented the bouquet to her with a smile.

"I saw these at the market on the way here, and I thought about you. You don't seem like the kind of girl who'd like the clichéd bouquet of roses though, so I opted for something a little more... unusual," he said.

She grinned, accepting the flowers. "Oh, these are beautiful. Thank you!" she said warmly. "And you're right about the roses. Very cliché."

She moved back to her violin case quickly to put away the bow and pack it up, placing the flowers gently on her table.

"Was that you playing?" he asked, clearly impressed. "That was beautiful. Everyone walking by was quite enchanted."

She blushed, feeling quite girlish for some reason. It'd been so long since someone complimented or flirted with her in such a way. Something about it was quite refreshing.

"Oh, stop," she chided, cheeks pink. She shut the case and moved it back to a shelf. "It's just something I've been trying to pick up again. It's been years since I last played. I'm very out of practice."

"It didn't sound like it," he said genuinely, taking a seat at her table as she moved towards the sink with the flowers. She ducked to pull a glass vase out from a cabinet. He looked around and saw various books on potion making, herbology, and protective charms open around the table. Notes were scattered messily. "Are you studying for your N.E.W.T.s again?" he asked teasingly.

She blew a raspberry at him, and he grinned roguishly. It reminded her of Remus.

"No, it's for some research I'm doing. I lost a lot of work in the fire at the apothecary, and I'm trying to recover it. It's taking quite a lot of time though. Please forgive the mess," she replied over the running water.

"Oh no, don't mind me. I did drop in unannounced after all," he said kindly. He watched her as she waved a wand over the flowers, trimming the stems and vanishing away the small discarded tips before placing them into the water.

"Hmm, there's something about fresh flowers that really brightens a room," she said warmly as she brought the vase over to the table. Barty smiled at her.

"So what brings you here?" she asked as she closed the books and pushed them to the side. She sat across from him. It was astounding how much more comfortable she felt, as opposed to the last time she'd seen him, which had been nearly disastrous. A flicker of annoyance shot through her at the memory of the Marauders' nosiness.

"Well, I had the day off and was just around the area," he said casually. "But I figured I'd drop by and see if you wanted to get dinner or something later this week." He smiled at her somewhat nervously.

A bit of uneasiness curled in her stomach. Was he sincerely asking her out? She mentally shook the thought from her head – of course not. Even if their "relationship" was a farce, they needed to at least make a show of it, and they could be friends, after all.

"Yeah, sure, I'm free all weekend," she said, smiling at him.

Relief seemed to spread across his features. "Excellent. How about Friday then? I'll make the reservations," he said happily. "And you don't need to wear a dress this time," he added cheekily.

She grinned sheepishly. "Am I really that bad at trying to look feminine?" she asked.

He laughed. It was a bright sound. "No, you actually look quite lovely all dolled up," he said. She blushed lightly. "But it doesn't take an IQ like Dumbledore's to notice how much you hate it," he said teasingly.

She laughed. "Okay, noted," she said grinning. "Thanks for being so considerate. I promise to look halfway decent though."

"I'm sure you could wear a pillow case and still look alluring," he said flirtatiously. Her face burned, but she laughed.

"Barty Crouch, when did you become such a flirt?" she asked teasingly.

He grinned. "You pick up a few things after graduation," he said cryptically.

"Sounds to me like you're doing more flirting than work at the Ministry," she said.

"You could say that," he replied. The grin broadened.

The two conversed easily for about an hour before he saw the clock and decided to excuse himself. After he pulled on his shoes, he turned to look at Rowan again.

"This has been fun," he said warmly. "We should just hang out more often. Dates can be so dreary, don't you think?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I agree. Feel free to drop by again sometime," she said.

He smiled softly at her before leaning forward and kissing her chastely on the cheek. As he pulled away, he smiled at the blush on her cheeks.

"Well then, I'll see you Friday," he said. There was a flicker of heat in his eyes that made Rowan's chest tighten.

"Till Friday," she replied quietly. He smiled again and turned, strolling down the stairs and out of the building.

As she closed the door, she leaned back against it and released a breath, the tension in her shoulders seeping out. It had been so long since anyone had flirted with her, even Remus. She had forgotten how exhilarating it could be.

She thought of Barty Crouch with his light hair and kind eyes. She admitted that she was more attracted to him now than she had been the last time she'd seen him. He had blatantly been flirting, and his kiss goodbye had thrilled her more than it should have. She reasoned that it was a very friendly, normal gesture, but the look in his eyes reminded her of the more heated gazes Remus used to shoot her way. There was no denying that he wasn't completely opposed to the idea of being a little more than friendly with her, though she couldn't be sure what _she_ wanted exactly.

Could she attempt a physical relationship with him? She knew she was incapable of emotionally committing to anyone besides Remus, at least not yet, but the thought of having a casual relationship with this man wasn't totally unappealing. However, she was unsure if she could separate the two aspects. She'd often admired Mina's ability to casually date boys in school and take what they had to offer physically without becoming invested emotionally – could she do that as well?

She groaned internally. It didn't matter right now anyway. They'd barely even begun their charade of dating – there was no point in worrying about it so early in the game.


	28. Of Memory's Melody

**A/N**: Are you all still there...? *shivers in the howling wind*

**sarahmichellegellarfan1: **It seems that you will always be my solid reviewing companion throughout the story... Thank you for always being there to throw me a few words of encouragement in the silence T-T

**misslak:** Sorry for the wait! Rowan will definitely not end up [permanently] with an OC, so no worries. This is and always will be a Remus x Rowan fic. I mean, don't all the best love stories involve a shit ton of longing and angst? [at least in stories. Maybe not in real life] Thank you for the reviews!

**WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 28: Of Memory's Melody**

When Rowan confided in her girl friends about her growing relationship with Barty, Mina had been very suspicious. Being an Auror, she also worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and she'd recently had a case for which she'd been required to work with him. It had left her feeling uneasy.

"Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. I know he seems like a nice guy, but I think he's much more like his father than he lets on," she said to Rowan seriously. "Just be careful with him, okay?" she warned. Rowan was unsure of how to feel about it.

Though she took her friend's warnings to heart, she was feeling confident about her strange relationship with the young man. May surprisingly passed happily and brightly for Rowan. She went on a few casual dates with Barty, which had all been comfortable and fun, and he stopped by a couple more times at her flat, always with an offering of sweets or flowers. He was always a gentleman – he held doors and pulled out chairs and walked her home after their dates – but he made no move to do more than kiss her on the cheek goodnight. She felt very relieved.

She'd seen Barty Sr. twice since they'd begun their charade. She'd stopped by the Ministry to meet Barty Jr. for lunch and exchanged some words with his father both times, and he'd looked extremely pleased at the sight of them together. He suggested that he was working hard on Karkaroff's case, implying that he was taking a hard stance and eyeing her with a piercing look, and it renewed Rowan's determination in continuing her act.

Though the Marauders all understood her reasons for seeing Barty, they still weren't entirely pleased about it. James and Sirius still interrogated her after every date, and the guilt and hurt she felt when facing Remus was immense. He never brought up their conversation about her moving on again, and though she'd meant everything she'd said, she still ached painfully at the sight of his longing looks. She wondered if it would be better for either of them to distance herself or try to spend more time with him to compensate.

But they'd continued their friendship, and he still insisted on walking her home at night, regardless of what time it was. She tried to avoid talking about Barty around him, and though they resumed a level of comfort around each other, her thoughts of the other man made her feel wistful and increasingly unsatisfied with her relationship with Remus.

She knew it was wrong to compare the two, but where Remus was distant and awkward with her, Barty was bright and engaging. She had forgotten what it was like to have a man show so much interest in her, and though she knew her relationship with Remus was much deeper than any casual flirtations, even in the last days of their relationship, he had barely even been able to smile at her genuinely, let alone make her laugh. When was the last time they'd really shared a happy moment together?

Peter had been suspiciously missing as of late. Mina and Sirius whispered to Rowan conspiratorially about a woman he'd met at work and had been seeing, a treasure hunter named Eris Eripice. They'd run into them at dinner once and said that she was very beautiful – a dark-haired beauty. Mina mentioned with some discomfort [Rowan noted it for later] that she looked slightly like Rowan, which Sirius found amusing. He joked that perhaps Peter fancied Rowan as well. Rowan laughed it off with mirth. After all, it was utterly ridiculous to think that Peter would ever look at her like that, right?

* * *

Rowan sat in the basement of Delacroix Manor, leaning back in her chair dangerously with her eyes squeezed shut. Formulas and numbers ran through her mind quickly. Her hair was tied messily in a thick mass on top of her head. A series of books were scattered across the table, and in front of her was the sleek gray quill Remus had given her for her seventeenth birthday and a practice test of sorts.

She couldn't get research grants or access to lycanthropic mice without a Potioneer's license, and although she'd been studying under Belby for nearly two years when he'd died, her memory was hazy. Instead of undergoing a typical apprenticeship with her master making her brew and research a wide array of draughts, she'd spent nearly all of her time working in a very specialized field. Though she often refilled any of the apothecary's stocks with her own potions since Belby had little patience for anything beyond his own research, she was still out of practice when it came to her theory knowledge.

She'd bought a series of licensing exam prep books, and though she was speeding through them with relative ease, there were still times when she'd hit a wall and realize that she'd forgotten much more than she'd thought. This was one of those moments.

Suddenly, she heard the door to the basement open, and steady footsteps down the stairs followed. A twinge of annoyance hit her, and she covered her ears from the noise, desperately scouring her mind for the answer to the practice test question in front of her. Her eyes remained squeezed shut as she balanced precariously on the back two feet of the chair.

She knew that the person who had entered stood next to her, but she kept her eyes and ears screwed shut. Her own voice recited loudly through her mind, but she kept coming up short. Finally, she opened her eyes with great frustration and saw that it wasn't her mother or Alfred, but in fact Remus standing next to her with a confused expression on his face.

Surprise hit her with blood rushing to her face, and suddenly she felt herself tipping backwards. Panic settled into her quickly as she felt her feet leave the edge of her desk, and her field of vision quickly flipped. She let out a panicked cry as her chair tipped and fell, and she spilled onto the floor with a loud crash.

Rowan's ears were filled with laughter as she groaned. She opened her eyes somewhat painfully to see Remus peering down at her with his eyes shining with great mirth at her lack of grace. She glared up at him, but he just continued laughing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he gasped. "I just can't believe that just happened!"

She wanted to feel annoyed at him for laughing at her, but the sight of him suddenly so happy threatened to force a smile to her face – how long had it been since she'd seen him laugh so wholeheartedly?

She rolled out of her chair onto her hands and knees and struggled to her feet with a groan. She noted that she'd have a bruise on her elbow soon.

"Hey, are you okay?" Remus asked, the remnants of laughter still stretched across his face. His eyes danced amusedly, and she couldn't help but smile sheepishly back.

"Yeah," she admitted somewhat embarrassedly. "I thought you were Alfred – took me off guard."

He grinned. "Sorry about that. What were you doing anyway?" he asked, stooping down to pick her chair back up.

"I'm studying for my P.A.T.s," she replied, moving back to the desk and closing her book.

"Your what?" Remus asked. His face screwed up with confusion.

She grinned. "My Potioneers Accreditation Test," she clarified. "I can't get any research grants until I get licensed as a registered Potioneer, and then I'll need to take the Master of Potions Exam, or M.o.P.E.s, after to become a Potions Master, though that probably won't happen for another couple of years at least."

Remus looked at her thoughtfully. "I see," he said. "Do you think the Ministry names every exam something ridiculous on purpose?" he asked.

She grinned. "Probably. I bet there's some drunk bloke at the Ministry right now naming some herbologist exam something absurd like H.E.R.P.s. They must come up with the acronyms prior to the test name," she said.

They snickered softly before Rowan looked at him, realizing again how odd his presence was.

"What're you doing here?" she asked.

He smiled softly at her. "I realized that we haven't really hung out recently and thought maybe you'd want to just… well, hang out," he said. There was a tinge of nervousness there, and she felt a wave of warmth wash over her. She smiled.

"Yeah, sure. We can head back to my flat if you want. It's a little stuffy here," she offered.

He smiled. "Sure."

* * *

Rowan stepped into her apartment with Remus behind her feeling slightly nervous. He hadn't been there for some weeks, as he usually left as soon as she was safe inside. She noted with a twinge of sadness that her most frequent male guest as of late had been Barty. For some reason, she felt guilty, as if she had been cheating, though she couldn't be sure on whom or with whom.

The warm June sun spilled into her flat, reflecting off her wooden floors and violin, which she realized that she'd left out on her table before leaving for her family's manor. She moved quickly to put it away as Remus removed his shoes.

"So you did decide to start playing again," he said, eyeing the instrument.

Rowan nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, it's been helping me relax," she said, opening up the case and reaching for her bow. Remus sat down at the table.

"Didn't you promise to play for me?" he asked teasingly.

Rowan glanced over at him and blushed. "Yeah, I suppose so," she said bashfully. She'd had every intention of following through with that, but she suddenly felt very embarrassed.

"Well, play me something then," he said cheekily, sitting back in his seat and grinning at her.

Rowan's face burned slightly. "But I'm out of practice," she blurted. "You don't want to hear me play now!"

"Oh, come on, Winnie. I'm sure you're just being modest," he encouraged her. "_Please!_"

She shifted uneasily, staring at the violin in her hands. She wasn't sure why she felt so uncomfortable playing for Remus suddenly. It seemed strangely intimate. But as she looked at his pleading face, she knew she couldn't argue. She sighed resignedly and picked it up.

Remus grinned goofily at her, and she smiled awkwardly as she set the instrument on her shoulder, grasping it with her chin. She ran her hand up the neck and set the bow on the strings lightly. The sun glinted off of the polished wood prettily. She took a deep breath.

She started with a long pull of her bow – a sweet, resounding note – before setting into a slow, melancholy melody, the same she'd been playing when Barty had first arrived on her doorstep in May. It had been her father's favorite, a surprisingly sweet preference for the typically fierce man. Indeed, she'd been inspired to pick the instrument back up again because of his passing, feeling as if perhaps she could hold onto a piece of him as she played.

She had many memories of standing in front of the fireplace of the drawing room as a little girl, performing the same song for Richard and his colleagues. When her mother had insisted on her taking lessons, she'd initially disliked them despite loving the music – sitting in a room for long periods of time with her stuffy tutors had been exhausting when all she'd wanted to do was climb trees and roll in the dirt. But when she saw how much it pleased her parents, how her father would glow with pride, she'd accepted them resignedly. She had to admit that she had a natural talent for it, and though she'd abandoned it after leaving for Hogwarts, she found that it all came back easily with every stroke of her bow.

Her fingers pressed against the strings instinctively. Every muscle in her arms and hands knew the song by heart, even after all the years of disuse. She didn't have to watch her fingers as they moved – she simply knew that after the high flat E came the shift to the deep, resounding D, and as her hand slid up the neck, her last finger automatically extended to graze the harmonic – a sad and haunting goodbye.

The note resonated throughout the room, within her chest. Rowan opened her eyes and saw the summer sun glinting off the swell of the warm polished wood. It was like her final note had evaporated into light. A bittersweet ache rippled through her softly.

She held the violin tenderly for a moment before slowly removing it from her shoulder. She glanced tentatively at Remus.

He was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands grasped together, looking at her with a fiery intensity. His mouth was pulled into a taut line, and his eyes burned into her. He hadn't looked at her with so much heat for a long time. Her chest tightened almost painfully.

"Beautiful," he said quietly. Heavy admiration laced through his voice.

Her lips twitched into a small smile, cheeks burning red again, but didn't respond as she turned to place the violin back into the case. She couldn't bear to see him look at her like that for long. She didn't trust her own voice. As she loosened the hairs in the bow, he spoke again.

"How long did you play before you quit your lessons?" he asked.

"Almost seven years," she answered, locking the bow into the case. "My mother insisted that I start taking lessons very young, but I abandoned it after leaving for school. This is a new violin actually since my old one was for a child." She closed the case and moved towards the shelf.

Remus nodded and gazed at her thoughtfully as she moved towards the kitchen counter after placing the case in its proper place. She began pulling out her tea set, reaching around the cabinets quietly.

"That song seemed significant to you," he noted softly.

Rowan's movements slowed, holding the teapot in her hands gently. She gazed at the intricate gray patterns stained into its surface.

"Yes," she replied quietly. "It was my father's favorite. I used to play it for him all the time when I was a little girl. I didn't see him often – he was always busy with work - but he never passed up an opportunity to hear me play." She smiled sadly at the memory.

Richard's proud gaze burned into her mind, and she had to push the tears back that threatened to break through - she would never see him look at her that way again. She hadn't cried for weeks over her father's death, and certainly not without the comfort of night. Her head pounded with embarrassment as she blinked the heat from her eyes quickly. Why was it that she could never keep herself together while with Remus?

Then she felt a hand on hers, gently guiding the teapot from her grasp and settling it on the counter. It gripped her arm and turned her slowly. She looked at Remus' chest and couldn't bring her eyes upward to his face.

He wore a clean white shirt that seemed to glow with the light. A long scar poked up from beneath it and over his collarbone, and she wanted to press her lips against it as she used to do so frequently. She wanted to do so many things that she couldn't anymore, like tangle her fingers in his hair or wrap her arms around his waist. Hell, she wanted to be able to just _look _at him without feeling dirty. The sadness she'd been trying to quell suddenly surged to her throat again, and she had to bite it down bitterly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Her eyes shot to his face. He was looking down at her with a pained expression. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"I shouldn't have made you play. I didn't realize-" he said apologized quietly, but she cut him off.

"No," she said firmly. Something about his voice sparked the fire back in her, and she felt her sorrow slip away slowly. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who chose the song, and I'm glad you heard it." She smiled genuinely, and his face seemed to melt with relief. "Besides, what's the use of playing if one doesn't have someone to listen?"

He smiled warmly, and she wanted to disappear into it. His hands still held her arms gently. He leaned forward slowly and kissed her hair gently.

Though her face felt warm, she closed her eyes and savored the pressure of his lips against her. Logically, she knew she should feel uneasy, but no matter how she reasoned, it felt comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. She breathed deeply.

When he pulled away, she felt strangely light. He smiled at her gently, and she couldn't help but smile back. His grip on her fell away, and he looked down the counter with an indiscernible expression. She followed his gaze and saw that they were looking at a bright bunch of purple blossoms that stood in a clear vase.

"Monkshood," she clarified. Remus' mouth tightened.

"Did Barty give those to you?" he asked quietly, still gazing at the flowers.

She felt herself falter for a moment, guilt creeping into her throat before pushing it away. What did she need to feel ashamed about?

"Yes," she answered carefully. "He sometimes brings me flowers. He thinks it's funny seeing me with them since I'm such a tomboy." She turned back to her teapot to keep her hands busy. For some reason, she felt anxious with Remus looking at the vase.

Remus didn't say anything for a while, but just stood behind her as she boiled water on the stove. She could feel his gaze on her but refused to turn back around. She wasn't sure if she wanted to read the thoughts on his face.

After she'd poured the water into the teapot with the leaves, she turned and saw Remus looking down at her earnestly. There was that quietly intense look again, but it was gentler. There was no anger there, as she'd almost expected. She saw a slight sorrow but it was mostly warm. He smiled, and something bloomed in her happily. She smiled back.

"Can you grab the milk and sugar?" she asked brightly. His eyes crinkled fondly at her before turning towards the cabinets, allowing her to carry the teapot over to the table. A couple of teacups and saucers floated behind her. As they settled onto the table with a light clinking, they glinted in the sunlight. The last note of her father's favorite song rang in her chest, though it no longer felt bittersweet. She smiled at the sound.


	29. Of Twenty Years & Twenty More

**A/N**: These recent chapters have been pretty light, right? I'm afraid that it'll probably start getting a little darker again soon. This one is happy and sweet though.

I've decided that the best part about writing this story is going through the viewership demographics and seeing where all of you come from [I'm from the US]. It blows my mind how far-reaching this site is. There are some of you reading in countries like Bulgaria and Indonesia and Pakistan and so many more, and I can't express how awed and happy I am to be able to communicate with so many diverse people through such a humble platform. Thank you for reading and for sharing in my story with me. Sending you all happy thoughts and well wishes from across the globe!

**WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 29: Of Twenty Years and Twenty More**

June passed into July peacefully. The Order's missions had been going well, and Rowan felt like they were finally gaining some momentum against the Death Eaters. Her father's final retaliation had taken down five influential Death Eaters including Ruprecht Lestrange – the patriarch of the Lestrange family – and the Dark Lord's forces were noticeably weaker. The Order was in great spirits.

July arrived, and with it came Rowan's twentieth birthday. As she looked in the mirror, she noted that perhaps her face looked a little thinner, but she couldn't really see any noticeable differences. She thought petulantly that all of her friends still looked much older than she, but she supposed she should feel grateful – many women paid good money for youthful appearances, after all.

The Marauders insisted that they go out to celebrate. They gathered in the Hog's Head for a change since they'd recently discovered that the barman was Aberforth Dumbledore. He gave them a free round of excellent aged firewhiskey, which glowed prettily against the dim light of the grungy pub. She laughed at the redness of Remus' face as he threw back the liquor with a grimace and felt like her body might float away at any moment with happiness.

Her friendship with Remus had also been going well. In fact, it nearly felt as if they were fifteen again at Hogwarts, leaning on each other for support in the hard times and happily playing off each other in the good. She still tried to avoid talking about Barty with him, as he would still visibly tense at the mention of his name, but otherwise, she felt more comfortable with him than she had in nearly a year. She couldn't express how thankful she was to truly have him back in her life.

"Where's Wormy?" Sirius demanded loudly, banging his glass on the table. He had an arm draped over Mina's shoulders. She scowled lightly at his sudden volume.

"He was getting dinner with Eris I think," Remus answered. "But he should be here…" he trailed slowly, looking around the bar. His face lit up with surprise as his gaze fell on the entrance. They all turned.

There stood Peter, craning his neck around to look for the group. He had been looking much happier and more confident as of late. He almost seemed like a different person, but what was most unusual was the woman standing next to him, whom Rowan assumed was his new girlfriend Eris.

She was taller than him by a few inches at least, with pale skin and thick dark hair. Her lips whispered of sensuality, and her posture spoke of refinement. Rowan felt a chill crawl up her spine. She suddenly understood Mina's words from the month before – she _did_ look like her.

But she couldn't be sure what it was. Their features weren't necessarily the same - this woman's eyes were more cat-like, her nose slightly hooked - and the energies they exuded were completely different, but there was something in the woman's face that was eerily similar to her own. A heavy discomfort settled into her bones as she watched the pair approach the table. The mysterious woman clutched Peter's arm gracefully but somehow possessively, and he seemed to grow a few inches with pride at the looks of envy a few men at the bar shot his way. It was like looking into a strange alternate reality. Something in her skin crawled.

"Hey, guys!" Peter chirped happily. He pulled his companion forward gently. "Sorry I'm late. This is my girlfriend Eris!" He swelled with pride. He went down the line, introducing all of them. When he reached Rowan, she swore she saw a strange flicker in the other woman's eyes. She mustered as genuine of a smile as she could and shook her hand. Though warm, it felt lifeless. She suppressed a shiver.

Rowan turned to look at Remus's reaction. He was frowning at the new arrivals with a look of concentration, and Rowan felt relieved that she wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable. She grabbed his sleeve beneath the table, and he shot her a quick glance from the corner of his eye. _I know_.

The others all seemed delighted though. James slapped Peter on the back happily as he sat down after pulling out a seat for Eris. The two sat closely, her arm still wrapped around his possessively. Her long pale fingers seemed to circle his arm like spider legs wrapped in its web. She saw Peter reach up and brush a strand of hair from Eris' face, the woman smiling warmly at him, and Rowan felt an uneasy wave of nausea. His fingers were stubby and thick, set into massive palms. She suddenly didn't want to look at him.

But why? She'd never looked at Peter with anything but fondness, even if it was secondary to the other men. He had always seemed sweet and innocent, although a little dim, but as she watched him laugh with James and Sirius with this strange reflection of her draped on his arm, a cold and sickening chill crept from her stomach and up her spine. Was she the only one who was disturbed by this scene?

"Hey Winnie, where's Barty?" Lily called down the table.

Rowan's head turned jerkily to see her friend smiling at her. The others all turned and stared. She forced a smile.

"Oh, he had to work tonight. It's no big deal, really," she said casually. Though she wasn't facing him, she could see the discomfort on Remus' face.

James scowled lightly. "What? He should be here! You don't turn twenty everyday!" he said indignantly. She shrugged and smiled apologetically at him.

"Is Barty your boyfriend?" a silky voice asked.

Rowan turned quickly and saw Eris looking at her earnestly. As their gazes met, Rowan felt a heavy silence in her mind for a moment. Something about the woman's eyes glowed, but almost artificially. Her gut churned slightly.

"Something like that," she said. She hoped it sounded casual. Eris smiled. They held eye contact for a second longer before Eris tore her eyes away to look at Peter. He gazed at her fiercely with a heated smile. Rowan's skin crawled again.

She looked down the table and saw Mina looking at her intensely. Like Remus, she was frowning. The corner of her lips twitched with concentration, and Rowan could see the thoughts flitting across her face quickly. Rowan caught her eye, and they shared a dark look.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed happily and loudly, despite the momentary interruption. The boys sang her the same screechy rendition of a happy birthday song that they had sung at Remus' birthday outing, and she cringed with a sheepish grin at the annoyed looks that the other patrons shot the table. Aberforth poured her liberal helpings of firewhiskey all night with a rough mussing of her hair, and by the time they all left Rowan was feeling quite tipsy.

Outside of the Hog's Head, their friends all said their goodbyes and last wishes to Rowan of a happy birthday. As she hugged Mina, the brunette whispered in her ear, "Let's talk later." Rowan's drunkenness subsided for a brief moment as she nodded gravely to her friend.

After Apparating back onto her street, Rowan laced her arm through Remus', just like from their days at Hogwarts, and stumbled slightly as they walked, feeling giddy and warm. Even in the dark of night, the summer air was quite hot, and she thought to herself that she was going to strip down to her underwear as soon as she got inside. She couldn't help the silly smile on her face.

She heard a soft laugh and looked up to see Remus gazing down at her with an amused grin.

"What're you looking at, Lupin?" she asked, pouting.

"You're drunk," he said with great mirth.

She blew a raspberry at him. He laughed and pulled his arm from hers, draping it over her shoulders. She hummed cheerily and wrapped her arm around his waist. Her head sang with happiness though her legs kept knocking into his as they walked. She giggled at her own drunken clumsiness.

"Okay, birthday girl, you need to walk in a straight line, or that cute face of yours is going to end up in the cobblestone," he said smartly.

"You think I'm cute?" she asked cheekily. He glared at her playfully. "Well, I can't help it. My legs are just moving on their own at this point. Like _ge-la-tin_!" she sang.

Suddenly his hands were on her waist, and she felt the world flip upside down. His shoulder was then digging into her stomach with her legs flailing under his hands.

"Remus!" she squealed, laughing loudly into the empty street. It echoed between the buildings

"I'm not letting you drunkenly take me down with you, you prat. Stop fidgeting," he teased, walking the remaining distance to her building. She laughed happily as the world spun around her.

As they stood on her front stoop, she expected him to put her down, but he carefully pulled out his keys from his pocket and opened the door, carefully maneuvering them inside and towards the stairs.

"Merlin – have you gotten heavier since we graduated?" he huffed.

"Rude!" she shot back in annoyance. She pinched his side hard through his shirt, and he yelped in pain before swatting her on the butt. She squealed. "You never comment on a woman's weight! You're a jerk, Remus Lupin!" she shouted.

"Yeah, yeah, _I'm _the jerk," he muttered. "Keep your voice down, you drunkard. Other people live here too, you know."

She huffed petulantly but kept quiet, listening to his steady breathing as he climbed the stairs. When they finally made it into her flat, he put her down on top of the table gently. Her head swam from the sudden change in orientation. He grinned at her.

"You're a mess," he said fondly. She grinned sheepishly at him and squinted slightly. Her vision was blurred from the alcohol, and the dim light didn't help.

"Don't move, okay?" he said. She nodded slowly, swaying slightly, as he walked to her sink. She heard the clinking of glass and the sound of running water. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Even the _sound_ of him there felt right.

When he returned, she opened her eyes and saw him smiling amusedly at her. He carefully placed a glass of water in her hands.

"Drink up," he said. She nodded vaguely and downed the water slowly, relishing the coolness as it cascaded down her throat. When she finished, he looked satisfied and helped her down from the table.

"Can you get ready for bed by yourself or do you need help with that too?" he asked teasingly.

Rowan grinned but didn't respond. Instead, she held her arms over her head and turned her chin up at him expectantly with a cheeky smile.

He sighed exasperatedly but smiled, hauling her shirt over her head. She hummed pleasurably at the coolness of the night air on her bare skin and felt strangely unabashed at her nakedness. She saw his eyes darken for a moment at the sight of her, and she felt the old familiar ache. But despite the urge to touch him, she kept her arms down by her sides as he removed her shorts next.

But then he moved towards her and wrapped his arms around her form, his breath hitting her neck hotly and chest almost touching hers. She breathed shakily, and as she felt his fingers unhooking the clasp of her bra – rough fingers scraping her skin – the ache coiled. When he pulled away, his eyes made a final sweep over her form with a dark look, and she stood bare and shameless, wanting him to look at her. But then he turned to her wardrobe. She kicked herself mentally for her disappointment.

She longingly watched him open up the drawer with her tops and pulled out an old baggy t-shirt. He smiled softly – it was one of his. Her chest tightened.

"Up," he ordered. His deep voice resonated through the silence, into her bones. She raised her arms, and he slid the shirt down over her form, pulling her hair gently from the neckline. She shivered lightly as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Into bed," he said quietly, eyes burning into her. She nodded weakly and crawled under the covers. He tucked her in tenderly, sweeping her hair from her face with warm hands. She closed her eyes and savored the feeling before looking back up at him again.

The scars on his face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Her fingers tingled with the urge to reach up and touch him, but her limbs suddenly felt so heavy. Her bed suddenly felt so comfortable, like her body was melting into it.

"I'm twenty now," she breathed. She wasn't sure if it was to him or herself. He smiled softly.

"You are," he agreed. "How does it feel?"

Rowan thought for a moment, her eyes drooping slightly. "I'm not sure. Sad, maybe," she said. "It makes me afraid of the next twenty years for some reason." She gazed at him and paused. Twenty years with him in it - would she spend the next twenty without him?

"You didn't give me a present this year," she whispered. He smiled softly at her.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "What would you like?"

She looked at him ardently, her thoughts rushing through her head. It was a stupid request, and she knew she'd regret it in the morning, but she couldn't hold back the words.

"Will you kiss me?" she whispered.

A low heat flickered across his face, but he didn't answer. He stared at her for a moment, the silence heavy between them. She could see the indecision dripping down his face, and she knew that if she'd been sober, she'd feel embarrassed for her lack of propriety.

But then he leaned forward slowly, and as she saw his jaw move upward over her brow, she closed her eyes. His lips pressed against her right brow. She felt his breath graze her skin softly, and then he moved to her cheekbone, where he pressed another soft kiss. She opened her eyes to look at him and saw the flecks of green in his gaze. They flickered downward, and her breath stopped. He moved slowly, and as his lips pressed against hers softly, the tightened coil in her chest released. The silence covered her hotly. He smelled of firewhiskey and sweat and home.

When he pulled away, it was slow, hesitant. She opened her eyes again and met his gaze. He smiled softly at her, and she wanted to see him with a pillow beneath his head, beside her and wrapped in cotton sheets.

"Happy birthday, Winnie," he whispered. She smiled gently.

"Thank you, Remus."


	30. Of the Masks We Wear

**A/N**: Sorry for the wait, but I've been really busy this past week. The tone is gonna shift again and get pretty dark, so I'm sorry in advance!

**misslak:** I really like the title "Queen of Anguish" haha - sounds like some band I would've listened to in middle school. The Peter x Eris x Rowan situation is gonna start coming into play soon heh. Also, I'm blown away that you like Rowan's character that much! It's seriously the highest form of compliment I could ever hope to receive! THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES OVER!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1: **Thanks for all the reviews, as always! You're the best! Sorry if you're bummed about the lack of sexiness, but there will be some eventually!

**S38: **Ehhhh I don't wanna give anything away, but I agree that Rowan isn't right for anyone except Remus. Also, you never have to apologize for cursing, as far as I'm concerned. I swear like a sailor haha.

**"Guest...?":** I don't know how to address you because you didn't sign your review! But thank you SO MUCH for reading my story! I'm also the type to not read fics unless they're completed, so I'm sorry if I tricked you haha. Lucky for you I tend to update pretty quickly, so I hope you stick with it! Thank you again! XD

On a side note: I made my BF watch _Totoro_ for the first time, and he came away from it feeling slightly depressed b/c it made him imagine what he'd do if I were ever hospitalized like Mei and Satsuki's mother. He immediately connected with the father character and viewed the rest of the movie from his POV, whereas I've always connected mostly with Satsuki, possibly b/c I first saw it as a little girl and was the older sister to a reckless younger sibling. It made me think about what it said about our respective personalities. It has nothing to do with my story, but I found it very interesting.

**WRITE ME A REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 30: Of the Masks We Wear**

Rowan spent the rest of July and into August studying for her P.A.T.s and working in her makeshift laboratory at Delacroix Manor, trying to make up for the lost research. She registered for an examination date at the end of January and was feeling confident that she'd pass. She hoped that by the time she acquired her Potioneer License, she'd have enough information recovered to resume Belby's work.

After Rowan's birthday, neither she nor Remus mentioned their intimate moment. Like their Christmas kiss, it remained a secret in the dark, and in the daylight, they maintained their comfortable friendship. Sometimes, she could even fool herself into believing that it had all been a dream, but something about it left her aching. She found herself tossing and turning in the hot summer nights, imagining his lips on hers again and the heated ways he used to leave her writhing, and even her dreams often left her wanting. She was becoming increasingly frustrated with her lack of control and had even begun consciously avoiding any physical contact with Remus to try to at least prevent herself from doing anything stupid.

Though she'd momentarily entertained the idea of pursuing a physical but casual relationship with Barty, she quickly realized that she was incapable of it. She wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't separate the emotional from the physical or if it was simply because she was still too in love with Remus. She desperately wanted to be touched again, but despite not being together, the thought of being intimate with anyone else made her feel incredibly guilty. She realized rather sadly that she still wasn't ready to completely move on.

But her farcical relationship with the young Crouch remained friendly. To make up for missing her birthday night, he took her out for dinner at a trendy restaurant in the city and gave her good news of Karkaroff's approaching trial date and a large booklet full of rare and hauntingly beautiful sheet music. She thanked him warmly and promised to play for him as soon as she practiced the first piece. Barty had seemed quite pleased, and though she wanted to be excited about playing for him, the memory of Remus sitting at her kitchen table as she shared her father's melody dampened any anticipation she had about the new music. She wondered if she'd ever be able to play her violin again without thinking of him.

She mentally scowled. Would she ever be able to do _anything_ without thinking of him?

* * *

After their drunken night, Rowan and Mina got lunch together at a café near the Ministry as they'd promised to discuss Peter's new ladylove. The memory of Eris' piercing gaze still sent cold shivers up Rowan's spine, and though she genuinely liked Peter, she was finding it very hard now to look at him without the sensation of her skin crawling. Mina apparently felt the same way.

"Can I show you something?" she asked lowly to Rowan beneath the loud chatter of the café. Rowan looked at her with mild confusion. Mina gave her a hard look.

"Something about Peter's new girlfriend rubbed me the wrong way," she said quietly. "I know you and Lupin felt something weird too." Rowan eyed her cautiously.

"I went to the library the other day and rummaged through the old newspaper archives and saw something that made me realize why she bothered me so much," she said quickly. She pulled a sheet from her bag and slid it to Rowan.

It was a newspaper clipping of a moving photo of a group of wizards and witches, all wearing Gringotts uniforms. They stood in a huge windowless room, full of countless glittering treasures. In the middle of the photo stood a young woman with a sensual mouth and dark flowing hair – Eris Eripice.

But something was off. Or perhaps it was right? The Eris in the photo moved completely differently from the one they'd met the other night. Even the way she held herself and the movement of her face was different. The one they'd met was silk and ink. This woman was movement and air. Rowan watched the figure grinning broadly at the camera, and when one of her fellow colleagues nudged her playfully in the side, she laughed openly with her head thrown back gaily. Rowan's chest stomach lurched at the stark difference.

She looked back up at Mina, who was frowning gravely at her.

"It's eerie, right - how much she looks like you?" she asked quietly. "That photo was from a _Daily Prophet_ article from last year, and it quotes her about a collection of Egyptian treasure her team had brought in. She was a new transfer treasure hunter from Greece. I don't remember the woman we met having an accent, do you?"

Rowan frowned. "No," she answered seriously. "But isn't it possible that her English is just good enough to not speak with one? She has been here for over a year, after all," she reasoned slowly, though she wasn't convinced by her own argument.

Mina looked at her disbelievingly. "We both know you don't believe that. Something here is wrong," she said bluntly. She grimaced guiltily. "Also, I hate to say it, but a woman like that – she's quite beautiful, right? And she's a pretty high-ranking treasure hunter - those kinds of people are thrill-seekers. Why the hell would someone like her go for Peter?" she asked. "I mean, I love him to death. He's a really sweet, great guy, but this Eris Eripice could certainly do much better. Don't you think?"

Rowan also grimaced. She couldn't deny Mina's reasoning. Peter was certainly a nice man, but he wasn't the smartest and definitely not the most attractive. He wasn't particularly funny or witty or talented with his hands or wand, and though opposites often attract - Mina and Sirius were certainly evidence of that - this was pretty unbelievable. She gazed at the woman in the photograph – her smiles were warm and engaging and seemed to draw her male colleagues towards her magnetically. Why _would_ a woman of such standing be attracted to someone like Peter Pettigrew?

"Have you mentioned this to Sirius?" she asked. Mina scowled.

"Yeah, but he got all defensive and said that I shouldn't assume so much and that people are different in relationships than they are with their colleagues," she said bitterly, mocking Sirius with a deep, stupid voice. Rowan had to smirk amusedly at it. "And obviously, I can't say anything negative about Peter to Sirius. He would never stand for it.

"I know he has a point, but everything in me is telling me that this isn't right. I know you felt it too. Please tell me you don't think I sound crazy," she whispered heatedly. Rowan had never seen those blue eyes burn so hotly.

Rowan nodded. "No, I definitely understand," she said fervently. "I felt it too. Something about her... It's wrong." Her face fell slightly.

"What should we do?" she asked weakly.

Mina's face also fell. "I don't know," she answered quietly. "I can't report her to a superior because no one else has reported anything unusual, and it'd be difficult for me to investigate her without anyone else noticing. I can mention my suspicions to Mad-Eye and hope that he bites but… I guess all we can really do for now is keep an eye on her and make sure nothing happens to Peter."

Rowan felt deflated. She nodded dejectedly. Would it really be safe to leave Peter with this woman if she was, in fact, not whom he thought her to be?

She sighed and shared an uneasy silence with Mina. They would just have to wait it out and see.

* * *

"Hello there, beautiful," Barty greeted cheerily. He stood from the table to kiss Rowan on the cheek, and she accepted it with a smile.

He had been busy at the Ministry, so she hadn't seen much of him for a couple of weeks. He insisted that he take her out for lunch to make up for it, and she couldn't refuse. She'd taken the time away from him to continue studying for her exam, and though she knew that a proper friend would miss spending time with him, she hadn't found any sort of yearning or longing. She couldn't be sure if it was a good or bad thing.

They got to talking, and he updated her with the happenings of Karkaroff's case. They'd set a trial date for January. It felt so far off, but he insisted that it was normal and that the Death Eater was being held in Azkaban in the meantime. The thought of him wallowing in the Dementors' stronghold helped ease her anxiety with a dark satisfaction.

"How are your parents doing?" she asked lightly. She eyed him cautiously and saw him flinch slightly.

Everyone with notable connections knew the Crouch family had a strained dynamic. Crouch Sr. was even more work-obsessed than her father had ever been at even his worst, and unlike her mother, Ariadne Crouch was a woman of weak will and countenance. She'd met her a couple of times throughout the years and had pitied the poor woman's inability to keep up with her husband. Even as a teenager, Rowan had overpowered the wisp of a woman, and she couldn't help but also pity her son, who obviously bore the burden of being the highly intelligent child to two highly flawed parents. She wasn't sure whom she should pity more.

"Mother is the same as always, and Father is, well... you know," he said casually, but there was a bite of bitterness there. "He's been particularly insufferable recently. I thought that perhaps working with him would give me a better understanding of him, but it's just made it worse. It's like he's making my job more miserable _because_ I'm his son." He scowled and gazed into his tea cup. Rowan wondered what he saw in it.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," she said sympathetically. She felt slightly bad for bringing it up, but she supposed he probably didn't get to talk about it much. She'd at least had Alfred to confide her feelings in as a child when her parents had been at their worst. Did Barty have anyone of that nature? She sort of hoped she could fill that role for him.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "You and your father – he was a very work-oriented man as well, wasn't he?" he asked carefully.

Rowan nodded. Her stomach lurched slightly at the thought of Richard. "He was. I'll admit that I resented him for a long time because of it – my mother was often depressed and lonely when I was young –, but I knew that, when it came down to it, he was a good man, and he loved us more than anything... I think the way he died confirmed that," she said quietly. She smiled gently at the thought of her father's bravery. He wasn't always attentive, but he certainly was a good father, a good man.

Barty was gazing at her with an intense heat. She couldn't read his expression, but something about it stirred a sense of unease in her stomach.

"You're very lucky," he said quietly. His eyes were still fiery. "Your mother seems like a very strong woman. She was able to be a proper partner to your father." The accuracy of his words gave her pause. She eyed him warily.

"My mother," he continued, "She's weak. She's always been weak. I honestly have no idea how my parents ever thought that their union would be beneficial to either party. I've often thought that my father would have been better off with a harder woman – someone like your mother, or even you."

Rowan continued to watch him carefully. His expression hadn't changed at all – still heated and hard. She could nearly taste his bitterness. His last statement somewhat disturbed her. What was he implying?

"You know, I'm really grateful that I've been able to get to know you over the past few months, even if it was because of something so petty as family connections," he said softly. "I didn't have many friends growing up who understood what it was like with parents like mine. We have a lot in common, don't you think?"

Rowan forced herself to remain still, to not shift uneasily and look away. She held his gaze steadily and nodded slightly.

"It's a blessing to have people you can trust, especially in these times, and I really feel like you're one of those people," he said heatedly. She heard his words and knew she should feel touched, but something about them didn't match his expression. Why did she feel so uneasy?

"Have you seen the article in _The Daily Prophet_ about the McKinnons?" he asked suddenly. Rowan couldn't hold the confusion from her face. He set a newspaper out in front of them, and on the front page was written out in bold letters: "MCKINNON FAMILY MISSING. SIGNS OF STRUGGLE IN HOME."

Rowan had to suppress a grimace. She'd heard about the McKinnons even before _The Daily Prophet_ or Ministry had. Marlene and her older brother Derek were members of the Order. She'd been a couple years ahead of Rowan in Gryffindor, and he'd been a Fifth Year during her First. They'd both been popular and high-achieving students - attractive, well-humored, and beautifully blonde. Their family was well-known for being staunch supporters of Dumbledore, and the thought of them being in danger made her stomach clench painfully. James and Frank Longbottom had been working with Kingsley Shacklebolt day and night to find them, and Rowan had a terrible feeling that they'd soon have a serious mission on their hands.

"Yeah, it's terrifying," she said quietly, trying to keep the anxiety from her voice. Why was he showing this to her so suddenly? "I was friends with Marlene in school. I can't stand the thought of something happening to her."

She looked up and saw Barty looking at her with an overwhelming intensity. His eyes searched hers hotly. Her throat clenched nervously. She still couldn't read his face.

"I can't help but wonder who will be the first to find them," he said softly. The silkiness of his tone sent a chill through her. "There are so many rumors of Dumbledore's alleged army fighting You-Know-Who's supporters. They seem to be the ones doing all the work, not the Ministry – don't you think?"

Rowan forced her face to keep still but nervously had no idea how to react. She held his gaze steadily, but her head pounded deafeningly.

"I've heard the rumors," she said carefully, "But I can't imagine that they're doing _all_ of the work. I'm sure your department has been working incessantly to fight the Death Eaters. Surely, you must take some credit." She tried to look at him warmly, but she couldn't be sure how her features were moving. She thought nervously that she probably looked very stiff.

His gaze darkened, and she suddenly thought of the shadowy anger on his face the first time she'd gone out with him. A tinge of fear set into her bones.

"My department is useless," he said bitterly. "We make a show of working, but we're not actually catching anyone. The majority of the Death Eaters that get arrested are the ones that show up in the middle of the night – presents from Dumbledore's army."

There was a fire in his eyes scalded her. She wanted to look away but somehow knew that she couldn't falter. Mina's warnings echoed through her mind: _He's much more like his father than he lets on._ She couldn't lose face to him.

"I wonder," he continued slowly, eyeing her carefully, "how one would become involved with this army, this Order of the Phoenix." He looked at her heatedly.

Anger flared in her. She was startled by its strength, confused at its suddenness and intensity. Something screamed in her, though it was incoherent. She struggled to keep her poise and stared back at him calmly.

"I would imagine that one would have to earn Professor Dumbledore's trust, if this army of his isn't just some rumor," she said nonchalantly. She reached for her water and took a long drink. The liquid boiled down her throat.

He assessed her carefully some more. "I've heard that a great majority of Order members are Gryffindors though. Surely you must have some old housemates that you suspect are members," he said slowly.

"I don't," she quipped smartly. "And if I am acquainted with any, they do a very good job at hiding it." She turned away from him and stared out the window of the restaurant. She wasn't letting this conversation continue.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. She kept her gaze directed outside, mind racing. A part of her feared looking at him – would she see his hidden rage again? Finally, the silence was broken by a third voice.

"Hello, are you ready to order?"

Rowan's head jerked towards the waitress, who was looking at them expectantly. She had a bright smile on her face. It seemed very out of place.

Rowan glanced over at Barty, who was once again smiling warmly. The sudden shift in his energy made her uneasy, but she ignored it for the moment. They ordered their food, and when the waitress left, it was as if the previous heavy conversation had never happened. They spoke casually for the rest of the meal, though Rowan kept her guard up, half-expecting to see the shadows in his face again. But his countenance remained light, and when he placed his hand on her back to guide her out of the restaurant after, she only felt a slight chill.

"I'll probably be busy again next week, but maybe we could grab a quick dinner if you're free?" he asked hopefully. She bristled slightly at the thought but smiled at him.

"Yes, of course. Don't work too hard, okay?" she said with false warmth. She wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

"Right," he said. Then his smile faltered slightly and he said casually, "If you hear of any people I can connect with about what we discussed earlier, I'd be very interested in getting involved." He looked at her lightly, but she could see the underlying heat in his eyes. She nodded and held his gaze.

"I'll keep it in mind," she said casually.

He smiled and leaned forward slowly, grazing her cheek with his lips. He came very close to the corner of her mouth. She suppressed a shiver.

"I'll see you later, Winnie. Thanks for hearing me out earlier - I really appreciate it," he said with a slow smile. She nodded and smiled weakly.

As he walked away, she kept her eyes on his back, determined to see him leave before turning away. When she saw him Disapparate, a rush of air shot from her lungs. She nearly gasped with relief. The limbs suddenly felt much more aware, the sound in her ears louder.

What had just happened? Barty obviously suspected that she was in the Order, but despite his alleged interest, she didn't believe him at all. There was something dark there, something sinister. She'd heard rumors of many Ministry officials being averse to the idea of the Order's vigilante operations, but he had never struck her as one. The hair on her arms stood on end, and a chill ran up her spine despite the August heat.

She thought of his invitation for dinner the next week with dread. The next Order meeting luckily was before then. She would certainly have to remember to bring this up with her allies. Maybe Dumbledore would know what to do.


	31. Of the Act of Murder

**A/N**: I felt pretty cool writing this, like it's some spy story. I guess technically it sort of is, but this was pretty bad ass. It gets kind of _**graphic with the violence**_ though, so beware. Also, thanks to everyone for the sudden influx of reviews! I love it! Please keep them coming!

**misslak:** Thank you so much as always! Sorry for no Remus, but there will be lots of him in the upcoming chapters, so I hope that makes up for it!

**S38:** Hahahaha sorry, no shagging in this chapter. Maybe someday sigh...

**CurseDoll: **I'm honestly not really sure how to respond to your review haha. It'd be kinda counterproductive to kill off my main character, right? But thanks for all the favoriting and reviewing! I really appreciate it ^_^

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Thank you as always! More Remus coming soon!

**MaeveD:** Thank you so much for the kind review and of course for reading! I'm glad I have a name to your virtual voice now. Sorry for the wait!

**JazzyPoole:** Thank you! I like leaving little hints, so I'm glad you enjoy them too haha. And Remus and Rowan will work it out... eventually...

**Guest...?:** Thank you so much! I don't know your internet name, but I appreciate the warm review! I hope you continue to read and enjoy!

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 31: Of the Act of Murder**

A deep silence fell upon the green hills of the Scottish wizarding village of Wigtown. The humidity seemed to absorb all sound and light, settling heavily upon the empty streets. Rowan Delacroix, Emmeline Vance, Arthur Weasley, and Dedalus Diggle were positioned as the support teams. Rowan and Arthur perched high on the roof of a house in the middle of the street at one intersection, and Emmeline and Dedalus perched on another at the end. All four melted into the shadows with heavy Disillusionment Charms.

Rowan's dark clothes stuck to her skin with sweat. A drop slowly rolled down her neck, and she had to force herself to not move and wipe it away. Her breath felt sticky and heavy with the heat. She looked down the street past Emmeline and Dedalus at Lestrange Manor in the distance. The yellow lights from the windows glowed menacingly. She glared at it momentarily before looking back down.

There was a faint popping sound from a dark alleyway. Silence settled again then followed by muffled voices and shuffling feet from the opposite direction, rapidly approaching them. A pair of dark-robed men appeared, silver masks glinting in the faint moonlight.

"It came from over there," one said lowly, gesturing towards the alleyway. She held her breath as they moved towards the end of the street away from her tree, but just as they were about to turn the corner, a sleek silver tabby cat crept from the shadows. Black markings circled its eyes like glasses perched on a nose. It looked up at them with narrowed eyes and hissed, back arched.

"Fucking cat," one of them growled, kicking at it. The cat sprang away and hissed again but didn't budge. The men cursed at it softly before turning and walking back the way they came.

They waited a few moments. The cat sat still at the entrance of the alleyway, green eyes glinting in the darkness. Finally, it let out a long careening meow that echoed softly down the street. Rowan's chest tightened before turning towards the opposite end of the street and letting out her own high-pitched meow. She heard Emmeline echo it back, the sound bouncing down the empty street. _All clear_.

Rowan heard the softest of shuffling from the alleyway and saw the faintest movement of shadows. She could make out a subtle shift in the darkness, though at first glance, the street appeared empty, but then she saw a series of soft footprints appear in the dirt roads.

There was a faint glimmer of light hair that she recognized as Remus', and Rowan felt her breath catch – the Disillusionment Charms on the assault team were fading. She and Arthur pointed their wands at the slow peeking of heads in the darkness and wordlessly cast a fresh series of charms upon the party below. She glanced around and listened carefully for the Death Eaters again as their wands glowed a faint white from the roof, but she saw no indication of them.

After recasting the last, she and Arthur followed them soundlessly over the roofs of the houses, peering down onto the streets for any sign of enemies. The cat ran ahead of the group towards Emmeline and Dedalus.

Suddenly, the cat hissed loudly. Rowan doubled her pace across the roofs, leaving Arthur to watch the rear. Below, she saw the cat arching and spitting venomously at a group of three different Death Eaters, all much taller than the last pair they'd seen. One stepped from the trio and sauntered towards the cat. Despite the mask, Rowan could almost see the smile on the man's face.

"Hello there, pussy cat," he drawled. "What a beautiful creature you are!"

The cat arched defensively and backed away slowly, teeth bared. The Death Eater approached it slowly, almost in a strut.

"It's quite a hot night, isn't it? Surely, you must have some cool place with your other kitty friends to escape to," he said.

"You know, you remind me of someone," the Death Eater continued. "And those markings – it's uncanny how similar animals can resemble humans. Why, if I didn't know any better…" he trailed off.

Suddenly his hand shot out, grabbing the cat roughly. It let out a long blood-curdling shriek, claws tearing wildly at the robes of the Death Eater, but he laughed and held it out in front of him, hanging it by the neck.

"_Professor McGonagall!_ How nice of you to visit us on this beautiful summer night!" he shouted gleefully. The other two Death Eaters laughed riotously, and Rowan felt her blood run cold. She could hear Arthur's faint footsteps running towards her. She glanced down to make sure that the assault team was still disillusioned before looking back at the laughing dark wizards.

"I haven't seen you in so long, Professor!" the man continued, ignoring the choking shrieks from the cat. "I'd nearly forgotten you were an Animagus. But then again, you _are_ the Transfiguration professor." He shook her hard, and Rowan's throat tightened painfully as she saw the cat's head jerk. Her body flopped violently.

"But why are you running around here like that, Professor? Why don't you come out and talk to us? It hardly seems fair. What was that reversal spell you once taught us?"

Rowan could hear the sickening grin in the Death Eater's voice. Her stomach lurched as she saw him raise his wand.

"Oh yes!" he shouted mockingly, pointing the wand at her still-thrashing form. "_Ani-" _

Rowan's wand shot out before she could think. "_Stupefy!" _she shouted. A red beam of light shot out at the wizard, and he let out a strangled cry before collapsing to the ground. Professor McGonagall collapsed with him but scrambled to her feet before sprinting into the shadows. Rowan could see a painful limp in her back left leg.

The remaining two Death Eaters shouted and started shooting spells wildly towards the roof, though they ricocheted off the brick and wood. She ducked behind a brick chimney, glancing down at the street to ensure that the assault team was still unharmed. She saw a slight glimmer and let out a breath of relief before gripping her wand and jumping out from behind the chimney. She released another burst of white light, effectively silencing the wizards then hitting them with a Stunning Spell.

As they collapsed to the ground, she quickly leapt down from the roof and grabbed the two Death Eaters, then pointed her wand at the third and magically pulled him to her. As she began stripping them of their robes and masks, she heard a quick pattering of footsteps towards her.

"Change in plans," she whispered, thrusting a mask out to whomever was next to her. She recognized the man beneath it as a young Slytherin who had been a year behind her at Hogwarts. She scowled at him. The next was also a recent graduate, but the last one – the one who had threatened Professor McGonagall – was Abraham Avery, Jr., one of her old school enemies. She smiled bitterly.

"Good thinking," a deep voice replied – Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Remus, James! Come put these on!" he called quietly.

She saw the three slowly reappear as they moved forward, quickly pulling the dark robes and masks from the Death Eaters and donning them in a hurry. Rowan tied the three Death Eaters together with conjured ropes.

"I'll take these three to the Ministry for questioning," she heard from her left. She looked up to see Minerva McGonagall looking down at her, looking pale and hair unusually disheveled. There were large purple handprints forming around her neck painfully. Rowan nodded.

"Are you okay, Professor?" she asked quickly. The older woman nodded with a grimace as she grabbed the group of men with effort.

"Sprained ankle, but I'll be fine," she answered. "Be careful and good luck," she whispered before Disapparating with a pop.

Rowan looked around and saw the three men now dressed in black robes and silver masks. She knew they were her friends, but something about the menacing uniform made her shiver despite the excruciating heat. She glanced behind them and wondered where Sirius and Gideon stood.

"Hey! Who's over there?" someone shouted. Rowan turned quickly and pressed herself into the shadows, relieved to see that her Disillusionment hadn't faded yet.

The two Death Eaters from before reappeared from around the corner, and Kingsley straightened up to look at them. They jumped slightly.

"Oh, Abe, I'm sorry! I didn't realize it was you!" one babbled apologetically.

"What have I told you about using names, you idiot!" he boomed. Rowan marveled at how similar he sounded to the now-arrested Death Eater. The bumbling Death Eaters flinched.

"Sorry! My apologies!" he whimpered. "We'll just, uh, continue our patrol then!" They then scurried off.

They stood in silence for a moment, listening for signs of any other disturbances. Rowan heard a faint meowing coming from the dark house at the corner – Emmeline was checking to see if they were okay. Rowan meowed back.

She turned to look at the three men before her. Her insides curdled a bit at the sight, but she moved from the shadows.

"We'll be off then," Kingsley said quietly. "If we run into trouble, we'll let out the signal. Be sure to keep on guard. Fabian and Frank will probably have taken out some of the guards already, but we can't be sure. Be safe."

Rowan squeezed his hand to let him know that she heard him and he nodded. He turned and began walking towards the house, followed by James. Remus lagged behind for a moment, glancing around for Rowan's hidden form, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. He jumped slightly in surprise but then squeezed back.

"Please be careful," she whispered. Fear crept up her spine. He nodded.

"You too," he whispered back. Then he turned and followed after the group, and Rowan watched them walk away with an empty ache in her stomach.

* * *

Remus approached the menacing house behind Kingsley and James. His chest felt tight enough to implode. He didn't know why Kingsley chose him for this – he wasn't good at talking his way out of tight spots like James. Wouldn't Sirius or Gideon have been a more logical choice?

Kingsley opened the door to the manor, and they stepped into a large foyer with high ceilings. An ornate goblin-made chandelier hung menacingly, emitting a low yellow glow. Gray cobwebs hung from it like lace.

"What was all of that racket out there?" demanded a haughty voice.

A tall statuesque woman with thick, dark, shining hair stormed towards them. Her face was beautiful and strong with heavy-lidded eyelids and thin lips, but there was a dark air of superiority about her. Remus recognized her as Sirius' older cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. He noted smugly that Richard Delacroix had recently taken down her father-in-law.

"Just a damn cat – probably in heat," Kingsley answered in Avery's voice. Bellatrix scowled.

"Fucking cats," she spat, eyes sparking maliciously. "Useless, filthy creatures!"

A shrill, blood-curdling scream came from the basement. It bounced from the walls and against the chandelier. Following the scream came muffled shouts and thuds. Remus had to suppress the fear that trembled through his legs.

"_Oh dear_," Bellatrix drawled. "It seems our house guests aren't enjoying the companion I sent down." She grinned maniacally. "Who would've thought prudish little Marly McKinnon would be such a screamer?"

Another shriek vibrated throughout the manor, and Bellatrix's grin widened even more. He was startled by his sudden urge to slap the smile from her face.

"Ah, music to my ears," she said almost wistfully. "I'm going to go find my husband. Why don't you see if you can offer our guests any refreshments?" she said lightly.

Remus watched her with barely contained rage. She danced up the stairs, humming an indecipherable tune to a strange rhythm, skipping a step with each change in pitch in the shaking screams. He wanted to burn the stairs and her with them.

When they saw her disappear down the halls and heard a door close, James turned towards them.

"Holy shit, Padfoot! What the fuck is wrong with your family?" he spat.

"Yeah, she's a fucking monster," muttered a voice from behind Remus. Sirius and Gideon remained Disillusioned. Another scream rang through the house.

"Quiet!" hissed Kingsley. James bowed his head in apology. "We need to get to the McKinnons. Fabian and Frank should be around here somewhere distracting the guards. If we're lucky, they'll have knocked them out by now. Sirius, Gideon: you two stay at the entrance of the basement and keep watch. Signal if the Lestranges start moving again. James, Remus, and I will try to overtake whoever is down there with the McKinnons. As soon as I make the signal, we run for it. Questions?"

They all shook their heads, and the three disguised members took off to find the basement. Gideon remained behind at the base of the stairs in the foyer and Sirius remained at the basement entrance. Remus took a deep breath as the remaining three moved down the narrow stairs into the dark. He hoped that Rowan was safe outside.

The stairs down to the basement in the Lestrange's Manor were long and narrow. Kingsley led James and Remus down carefully as the haunting screams of a woman shook louder and louder up the narrow corridor and into their ears. Remus was grateful for the silver Death Eater mask on his face, for it hid his visible flinch with every shriek and groan.

Finally, the basement came into view: a large gray cement expanse with long dark bars standing in a row from floor to ceiling. Behind the bars lay three people in tattered, dirty clothing – two men and a woman. They were very still.

Along the wall outside of the barred off area was a young blonde woman shackled in a medieval looking machine. She was doubled over with her wrists and neck clamped in a single wooden block that hung from the ceiling in chains. Blood trickled down her chin, pooling with rhythmic drips on the cold cement floor. Her eyes were bloodshot, and as Remus looked harder, he could see the clothing on her back torn open and soaked with dark red blood. Deep, wide gashes were cut into her skin. Her entire body shook with sobs.

It was Order of the Phoenix member Marlene McKinnon.

"Oy, Avery!"

A young slender man with brown hair donned in black but sans robes and mask stood in front of the crying young woman – Evan Rosier. Remus' throat constricted with rage at the sight of his old classmate. Red splatters adorned his arms and even part of his face. He held his wand in one hand and a whip in the other. He grinned at them.

"What's with the whip?" Kingsley asked calmly. Remus was astounded at how levelheaded he could remain in the presence of such brutality.

"I like the feel of it," Rosier answered gleefully. "There's something more satisfying - something _visceral_ - about manual labor that you don't get from a wand, don't you think?"

He brought the whip down hard with a deafeningly crack on Marlene's back. She let out a choking shriek and then broke into a fresh wave of tears, trembling violently under the weight of her own body. Her hair stuck to her face wetly in a mixture of tears and blood.

"Oh sh-sh-shh," Rosier cooed quietly. He kneeled down so that he was face to face with Marlene. "This is all your fault, you know? You're being so uncooperative. If you just answered my questions, we wouldn't have to keep playing this game. And look," he said softly, gesturing towards the three other men with a faint smile. "You're embarrassing me in front of my friends."

"I told you I don't know anything!" she sobbed. She thrashed her head as he held a hand to her face, dragging his nails down her cheek softly.

"Oh, but that's not true. You know where the Order headquarters is, your fellow members' names. The list goes on and on. Anything would do," he cooed. He dug his nails into her skin roughly and she cried out in pain.

"Rosier!" James blurted. Remus looked towards him with fear.

The Death Eater held Marlene's face tightly but turned to look at James. Annoyance flickered across his face.

"What?" he asked impatiently.

"Lestrange wanted a word with you," James said calmly.

Rosier assessed him quietly for a moment, and Remus' panic simmered in his lungs. Finally, Rosier let go of Marlene's face and stood, throwing his whip against the wall roughly.

"What the fuck does she want _now?_" he muttered angrily. "I'm sick of her ordering me around like some fucking house elf. That stupid bitch needs to be put in her place."

He stormed towards the stairs, turning away from the gruesome scene, but just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Kingsley hit him in the back with a Stunning Spell. He fell to the ground with a grunt.

James ran forward and grabbed him violently, conjuring ropes to restrain him. He jerked him around roughly and tossed him to the side angrily.

"What a fucking psycho!" he spat. "What is wrong with these people?"

As James frantically wiped the blood from his hands, Remus and Kingsley rushed towards Marlene. Her eyes widened in fear, breath surging rapidly in gasps.

"Marlene, it's okay. It's your friends," whispered Remus quickly as he undid the locks on the wood and chains. "We're going to get you out of here."

Her eyes filled with tears. "R-Remus?" she stammered breathlessly. "H-how…?"

"We'll have time to answer questions later. We have to get you and your family out of here now. Can you stand?" asked Kingsley.

Marlene tested her legs shakily as they released her wrists and head. Her knees gave out for a moment, and Remus shot forward to grab her. She steadied herself on his arms and stood slowly, legs still trembling. Kingsley assessed her wounds calmly and whispered a series of incantations over them. Remus saw the bloody gashes start to close up. After a few moments, she was able to stand with Remus' support, though it looked as if she carried a heavy weight on her back. Her skin was a sickening shade of white.

James had moved to the caged off area and had opened the door. He was already inside, kneeling next to one of the men, who appeared to be Marlene's older brother Derek. When the man didn't wake from his shakes, he shocked him with a Rejuvenating Charm, and he shot up, gasping loudly with limbs flailing in panic. He cried out in fear at the sight of James' mask.

"Derek! _Derek!_" James stammered, trying to keep his voice down. "It's James Potter! It's okay!" James removed his mask to reveal his face.

Derek's flailing stopped, but he kept his arms over his face. He peered almost frozen through his arms at James with wide eyes. His yellow hair stuck to his face with a sheen of sweat and grime.

"James?" he whispered disbelievingly.

James smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, it's me. Come on, we have to hurry!"

Derek staggered to his feet, wobbling dangerously, but as soon as he saw Marlene hanging onto Remus' shoulders, his strength seemed to come back to him. He stumbled forward in panic towards his sister.

"Marly!" he cried. His breath caught at the sight of her blood-heavy clothes and the caked blood and tears on her face. He ran his hands frantically over her cheeks and hair. The blood smeared over her skin and onto his hands. She flinched but smiled weakly.

"It's okay. I'm okay," she whispered encouragingly. His mouth quivered, but he held himself together, taking her from Remus' grasp so that he could support her while Remus moved forward to help James.

He didn't make it past he bars though. James looked up at him and Kingsley with fire in his eyes and a trembling mouth – the McKinnons' parents were dead.

"Shit," Kingsley whispered. Remus looked over at the young McKinnon siblings. They both gazed at their parents' bodies with tears in their eyes. Marlene's hands gripped her brother's shirt tightly, while he looked murderous.

"We have to leave them," Remus said quietly. Shame hit him hard as he saw the hurt in the blonde siblings' faces, but he knew they couldn't escape with the extra weight.

"B-but our parents! They-" Derek stammered with wide eyes.

"Remus is right," Kingsley cut in firmly. "I'm terribly sorry, but you two are our priority. We have to get out of here as quickly as we can before anyone notices that you're gone."

The siblings trembled with quiet tears. Marlene hiccuped quietly. Derek's grip on her tightened, but he nodded in understanding. Remus swallowed his guilt and moved quickly towards the stairs.

At the middle of the stairs, he pressed himself against the wall and looked up. The dim light seeped into the dark passageway. He listened carefully and didn't hear anything. He knocked softly against the wall twice. He heard another soft double knock back from Sirius. He turned back down the stairs and nodded at Kingsley, who quickly gestured for the other three to follow quickly.

As they moved up the stairs, Remus looked around quickly for any sign of other Death Eaters and saw only empty hallways. He heard the soft whisper of Sirius' footsteps. As they approached the next corner to the foyer, he heard another double knock. Gideon knocked twice back. They moved forward.

Remus kept his wand tucked into his sleeve but gazed around the foyer and up the stairs to watch for Bellatrix, Rabastan, or Rodolphus Lestrange. The McKinnons staggered forward with Kingsley and James holding up the rear. The door opened slowly – Remus assumed from Sirius or Gideon's doing – but just as they were about to move out, shouting and the sounds of thrashing erupted from the basement.

"_Escaped! The prisoners have escaped!"_

Remus felt his blood run cold. How had Evan Rosier had already come to? Kingsley grabbed the McKinnons and shot out into the night. Shouts and feet thundered throughout the house, and Remus heard a slamming of a door from above and saw a mass of dark hair bolt down the hall. Bellatrix Lestrange screamed with spitting venom.

"FAKES!" she shrieked at Remus and James. She threw green light down the stairs towards them, and they leapt out of the way, narrowly missing her Killing Curses. "FAKES! _FAKES!"_ she bellowed.

"_Let's go!_" Remus shouted at James, and they tore out of the house. He heard Bellatrix thundering down the stairs and crashes of furniture and spells behind them.

As they ran out into the night, Marlene struggled forward with Derek pulling her desperately along. Kingsley was in front, and Remus could see the Disillusionment Charms fading slowly from Sirius and Gideon. A shock of red hair began to appear in the darkness. He then saw a flash of white light from the roof of a nearby building and a Shield Charm covered them.

A flurry of green light started shooting from the house, and Remus heard Bellatrix's raging voice screeching through the night air.

"MUDBLOODS! TRAITORS!" she shrieked. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

But then he heard her grunt and thud, and Remus hazarded a glance back to see a wizard donned in dark robes sprinting past her limp body, which now laid on the ground. He threw his mask to the ground – Frank Longbottom. Behind him, another wizard burst from the house, and he saw flaming red hair poking beneath the hood – Fabian Prewett.

"We have to get beyond the manor barrier!" the Auror shouted.

The group sprinted down the empty streets, but then another group of about five Death Eaters blocked them off, appearing from the next street over. Remus saw Kingsley raise his wand in preparation, but a barrage of red light rained down from the roofs, hitting all of the Death Eaters with a series of grunt and shouts. Remus looked up and saw Rowan, Emmeline, Arthur, and Dedalus with arms raised. Their Disillusionment Charms had finally faded.

"GO!" Arthur bellowed at them.

"Kingsley! Get the McKinnons out of here! We'll hold them off!" James shouted, turning back towards the manor. A small wave of dark-robed wizards were quickly closing the distance. Evan Rosier led the group, looking bruised but murderous.

Marlene was still struggling. Her face was stone white from the blood she'd lost, and Remus could hear her gasping raggedly with the strain. Derek was pulling her along but was also staggering slightly from his own injuries. Rosier wasn't far behind. Rowan and the rest of the support squad were shooting protective spells around the siblings and hexes into the swarm of Death Eaters. A few dropped to the ground with loud grunts and shouts, but there were still at least six or seven quickly closing the gap.

Sirius ran forward to grab Derek. He yanked him off of Marlene, and Fabian grabbed him, dragging him away with a burst of strength. He shouted for his sister, but just as Sirius was about to haul Marlene over his shoulder, a burst of green light hit her in the back.

Remus felt the shouts fall away as he saw the light in Marlene McKinnon's eyes fade. Her mouth hung open in a silent gasp, eyes still wide with fear. She collapsed into Sirius' arms with a flurry of arms and yellow hair, and as she hit the ground, all he could hear was Derek's screams.

* * *

Rowan breath left her as she saw the blonde woman fall to the ground in a heap. Sirius held her body with fearful eyes, disbelieving. She heard Arthur and Emmeline screaming at him to move, but he stared at the lifeless form in his arms as if he too had been hit with the Killing Curse.

Rowan saw Evan Rosier below. He was nearly upon Sirius, wand drawn. Her lungs seized, and before she could stop herself, she had thrown her body off of the roof and onto the Death Eater's body.

"NO!" she screamed. Her voice seemed to jolt Sirius from his daze and catch Rosier's attention. He cried out as she came barreling down on him. He didn't have the time to draw his wand on her, and they collapsed to the ground in a storm of limbs.

Sirius tore Rowan off of the Death Eater, but they quickly found themselves surrounded by another five. They stood with backs pressed against each other. She held her wand out fiercely, keeping an eye on the groaning Rosier, who was pulling himself slowly from the ground. The other three support team members had leapt from the roofs and stood around the Death Eaters but at a careful distance. Rowan could hear Derek screaming. She saw Fabian dragging him away past Remus, Frank, and James, and soon, there was a pop, and they were gone. She felt a slight bit of relief.

"_You_," Rosier breathed venomously, glaring Rowan down. He grinned slowly, and she bristled angrily. "I've been waiting for this day for years, you little bitch. The half-breed lover and the Black family disgrace – how deliciously perfect," he said silkily.

"No," Rowan said quietly. "It's all of us against just you, Rosier. You're totally outnumbered."

"Like I give a shit," he sneered. "But this reminds me of something," he said giddily. He grinned at her. Her skin crawled.

"_What?"_ she spat. He giggled, high-pitched and grating. Her stomach churned with nausea.

"_The fire burned, the screams were heard, the house came tumbling down!"_ he sang gleefully. Rowan felt the blood drain from her face.

"Oh yes," he taunted. "We had some fun, yes, we did – me and your half-breed loving master. Shall I burn you away like poor old bumbling Belby?"

Heat shot up into Rowan's lungs. She felt her arm burn.

"_It was you!"_ she seethed. Every muscle in her body tightened with rage, and she thought that fire might burst from her throat. Her hand clutched her wand so tightly that she thought it might break. It seemed to vibrate in response.

"_Me!"_ Rosier cried giddily. "Oh, you should have _heard_ him! The serious ones are always the most fun," he mocked. Rowan's blood boiled. "I have to say he put up a pretty good fight for an old man, but he went down just like they all do – burning and screaming." His eyes pierced into her.

Rowan could barely breathe. She felt as if she was choking on her own rage. Heat scorched into her flesh and bones, and she wanted to feel Rosier's face beneath her hands as she tore him limb from limb. She wanted to hear him scream with agony.

"My only regret though," Rosier continued softly. His voice was nearly a whisper. "Was that _you_ weren't there. Imagine my disappointment when I realized you'd stepped out, after all of the preparations I'd made! Talk about bad luck!" he said dramatically.

The red anger seized Rowan, and before she knew it, icy blue light shot out from her wand.

"_Frigio Ignus!_" she screamed. Blue flames erupted around Rosier's chest, and he screamed out in pain. The sound sparked a flurry of shouts. Bursts of light shot chaotically through the darkness suddenly as the Order and Death Eaters clashed. She felt the pressure of Sirius' back against hers disappear as he contorted and dodged as he dueled. Beams flew around her as she stormed towards Rosier's flailing body. He was thrashing on the ground wildly, writhing in agony.

It was the same hex that she had been hit with nearly two years before. As she thought of the all-consuming pain, the anger and hatred she wanted Rosier to feel, it had nearly burst from her wand on its own. She kicked him roughly in the side as he screamed.

"_You bastard!" _she screamed. "_I'll kill you! _I'LL KILL YOU!" She kicked him again and again, noting the sound of cracking in his sides under the pressure from her boots – she'd broken a couple of his ribs. Her legs flailed and burned as jolts of electricity seemed to seize them wildly. The flames had died out already, but he was still twitching with pain, eyes rolling back into his head and groaning sickeningly. She fell upon him with thrashing hands. She grabbed him by the shirt collar and threw him into the ground violently, smashing his face into the dirt. Her arm seared.

But then he laughed – a low, haunting sound.

She let go of him quickly and stared, staggering back slightly. His laughter was soft, breathy, but as he struggled to roll over onto his side, wheezing and coughing, the laughter grew. The sound shook her to the core and the chill of fear crept up her spine again.

"You're soft," he gasped, pushing himself up onto his hands. "You're soft!" he said more loudly. "Is that really the best you can do? A silly Frost Fire Curse? _Really?"_ He laughed harder, painfully. Spit bubbled at the corner of his mouth. The anger came surging back.

She shot the blue flames at him again in a blind screaming rage, and he collapsed back to the ground shrieking. She watched him numbly as he writhed. The sounds of battling around her signified that only a few remained standing, but she didn't bother to look or defend herself. She burned the image of Evan Rosier's thrashing body into her heart with relish. She wanted to carve the sound of his screams into her bones like a symphony.

When he finally stopped twitching, he lay on the ground wheezing, but a weak smile still played on his lips. A gasping laugh broke through, but he couldn't muster enough air to continue. She stalked up to him and thrust her wand into his face.

The words were in the back of her throat. Her tongue and eyes were numb. Her arm burned.

"You can't do it!" he gasped gleefully, the corners of his lips twitching upward with amusement. His chest rose and fell with effort. His breath came in short, labored wheezing. "_You're weak!_ You're_ nothing_ without your half-breed boyfriend! And blood traitor Daddy isn't here to save you! _Useless_! You're nothing! _NOTHING, you stupid whore!"_

Blinding rage - she fell upon him again with fists and elbows and knuckles. Her fists collided painfully with his face, but it was distant. Beneath her knuckles came crunching, cracking, spitting, but she didn't hear it. She didn't see it. Her mind was a blank slate. Her ears roared deafeningly. Distantly, she realized that her throat was searing, that she was screaming, but she didn't know the words. Were they a language that she knew?

But then her arms went limp, like a switch had been flipped. She was on her knees, leaning over Rosier's body. He twitched, gasping for air, staring at her with wide eyes.

Nausea hit her.

His mouth gaped with blood oozing from his lips. His cheeks were black and purple with several gashes in his skin. Small pebbles from the concrete were embedded into his face and neck. He gurgled sickeningly. Her throat squeezed painfully shut with ice and disgust. Her lungs heaved loudly, raggedly with exertion. Her cheeks burned with sweat and fire. She couldn't even recognize him.

What had she done?

But then there was a shriek, and Rowan's head jerked up. Bellatrix Lestrange had woken up from her collapse and was hurdling towards her, blind fury in her face and dagger in her hands. Her arm reached up, and Rowan saw the silver blade leave her fingers, flying through the air. It all seemed so slow, and yet she couldn't seem to move her arms. She couldn't dodge it. She felt the panic seize her skin and lungs with creeping ice. She closed her eyes to prepare for the impact.

But it never came.

She felt the pressure of a heavy body fall against her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a pair of cold, dark eyes boring into hers. Blood bubbled at the mouth, dribbling down the chin.

Evan Rosier had taken the dagger.

She felt her blood run cold as he smiled, red and wide. He coughed, spraying her face with blood. His fingers dug into her shoulders painfully. His nails dug into her scars painfully, and then he leaned forward and smeared his tongue and lips up her cheek, slowly, wetly. She felt the hot bubbling saliva from his mouth drip down her face and his breath sear her skin. She couldn't move.

"_Murderer_," he whispered into her ear.

As he pulled away, he kept his eyes locked with hers. He fell to the ground slowly, a jerking of joints and gravity, and as he crumpled to his knees, then his side, the light left his eyes. A red smile still grazed his face.

Rowan leaned over the lifeless body of Evan Rosier. His eyes continue to pierce through her, and she couldn't seem to find her lungs. Her burns seared painfully as she felt the wet dripping from his mouth's remains on her cheek fall onto her scarred arm. The world pulled away from her.

Then suddenly, she felt her feet leave the ground, and there were hands on her waist. She looked up and saw fury in the face of Bellatrix Lestrange hurdling towards her, but she was moving backwards, her innards bouncing and her vision jolting painfully. The sound of the dark woman's screaming came rushing back into her ears, but before she could decipher what she was saying, she felt the world around her suck into the void. She was going back to London.

* * *

When the ground re-solidified, Rowan and her captor collapsed to the ground. She gasped and struggled, trying to find her arms and legs. She heaved, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea hit her, as if the gravity had been doubled momentarily. She choked back the sick and coughed into the ground, feeling the cold cobblestone digging into her cheek.

Suddenly, she felt herself being hauled up by rough hands and shaken violently. Her head jerked painfully.

"_What is wrong with you?"_ someone shouted in her face. She tried to focus her gaze, but the world still seemed to be spinning. Finally, she got her bearings and saw a pair of green eyes burning into her frantically – _Remus._

She struggled to speak but couldn't find her words. His anger seared into her, and she felt her face burn with sudden shame, though she didn't know why.

"_You could have been killed!"_ he bellowed. She flinched at his tone. "_How could you be so reckless, so STUPID?"_

Then his arms were gripping her so tightly that the air was forced from her lungs. She felt hot bubbling tears hit her neck and the trembles of his chest against her own. A wave of guilt hit her, and she brought her arms up hesitantly to embrace him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Without warning, grief hit her, and she felt her own tears begin to surface. "I'm sorry!"

They held each other and cried silently for a few moments. She fisted her hands tightly in the Death Eater's robes he still wore, and he clung to her desperately, burying his face in her hair and running his hands frantically over her. When their tears subsided, they pulled away slowly, both red in the face from their tears. Remus reached up and wiped her cheek. His face melted darkly.

"There's blood all over your face," he whispered. Rowan reached up and pulled her fingers away, which were covered with red ooze. She thought of Rosier's parting gift and trembled, remembering the hot gush of wetness from his tongue, the roughness of his cheek, his breath on her face and ear. It was very cold. Remus' gaze softened sadly. He kissed her hair gently.

"We should probably get moving," a voice said.

They pulled away from each other, and Rowan suddenly remembered the rest of her team. She looked around and saw that everyone was accounted for. Sirius had a nasty black eye forming and James had a swollen, bloody lip, but otherwise, everyone looked relatively unharmed. Her chest seared with disbelief – how had they all survived?

"We need to get back to Headquarters. Derek and Fabian should be there by now," Kingsley said quietly. Frank nodded.

"I'm taking Rowan home," Remus said firmly.

Rowan gaped up at him. His gaze was hard on Kingsley with his lips set into a taut line. It was as though he'd completely switched with someone else in a mere second.

Kingsley assessed him quietly before nodding. "Alright," he said quietly. "But you two will need to make a report to Dumbledore tomorrow morning then."

Remus nodded and held Rowan to him tightly. As they watched the others gather themselves and begin to Disapparate, she looked up at him. His eyes burned into hers. The heaviness of his silence made her lips tremble, and she felt him pull her into the void.


	32. Of Crashing Waves

**A/N**: Sorry for the delay! I was going to post yesterday, but I spent the night in the ER because my friend fell after a night out and dragged me down with him, resulting in a good layer of my skin peeling off on the bottom of my foot! Had to get a few stitches, and now I've got a weird, chunky bandaged up appendage, a very sore bloody knee and palms.

But here is the most difficult chapter I've had to write thus far! I've actually been writing the next like 5 chapters for 3 weeks now, but I've hated them and kept rewriting over and over again. This is a big commitment for me to post this. Be gentle.

**Lovirosa:** Thank you SO much for the amazing reviews! To clear the confusion, you wrote a "guest" review first, which means I had to read over it first before it shows up with the other reviews. But it really touched me, more than I can properly express. I'm very humbled that you've enjoyed the story so much thus far to read it in a single day! Your observation about Remus being too protective is spot on, and it will become a major focus soon! As for the "leak" you mentioned, I don't like giving spoilers, but if you're _really_ dying to know, you can shoot me a PM, and we can discuss it there. Thank you again, and I look forward to hearing from you soon! ^^

**misslak:** THANK YOU! I really like writing these action-packed chapters, though they always tend to end badly, don't they? Lots of Remus this chapter!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** I KNOW, RIGHT?! I'm so freaking happy! Thank you for being here through it all! My first reviewer ever, and you're still with me! Thank you again and again!

**TheStarCalledVega:** Hahaha no babies anytime soon, but maybe some action...? Kind of... I hope it appeases your hunger a little!

**missalex3030:** Thank you so much! I love these kinds of chapters too - they're definitely the most fun for me to write, even though they get dark. I really wish I could write more of them, but the story would get really heavy really quickly that way... MORE REMUS NOW!

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 32: Of Crashing Waves**

When they arrived on Rowan's front stoop, she felt herself being pulled into her building in a frenzy of hands and force. Remus gripped her wrist tightly, dragging her up the stairs and into her apartment. She noted that it hurt slightly, but it almost seemed like a distant dream. Had she really just been in a battle? The blood on her face was cold now. It was soaked into the shoulder of her black shirt. She knew it was staining her skin beneath.

When he finally pushed her through the door, his hands were a flurry of movement. He was yanking off the Death Eater robes violently, throwing them onto the floor with disgust. The mask was gone, and she was very glad for it. Then he fell on her again, fingers prying at her clothes, tugging at edges and the fastening of her trousers. He pushed the fabric down her legs, peeling them away from her feet with a quick yank. She stumbled slightly from the force of it. Her skin suddenly felt very cold at the exposure.

She watched him blankly as he started to make do of her gloves. She heard a slight ripping noise and knew he'd torn one of them. Then his hands were frantically pulling her shirt, but his fingers and limbs were jolts of clumsiness and panic. He fumbled shakily as he groped for the edge of her shirt, pulling messily but unable to remove it fully.

A calm sort of pity spread through her slowly. She reached up and grasped his wrists lightly. The small touch jerked his head upward. He finally met her gaze, and she felt a small wave of grief wash over her, like she was lying in a pool of lukewarm water. His eyes searched hers frantically. His breath came in rushed bursts from his nose. She kept her gaze steady and exhaled slowly. He seemed to breathe in the air from her lungs. She squeezed his wrists lightly.

"I can do it," she whispered.

His lips twitched, and a flare of anger flickered through his eyes. She wondered why vaguely. But he slowly pulled his hands away from her shirt with what seemed like great effort. There was a tension in his arms, as if it was taking all of his willpower to keep them there. The pool of grief lapped around her gently.

She reached for the hem of her dark shirt and saw how irregularly it had been stretched in Remus' panic. She pulled it gently over her head, strangely unabashed by her nakedness and threw it gently towards her laundry hamper. She noted how detached she felt despite being in her underwear in front of her former lover, covered in patches of drying blood and sweat.

He stood in front of her, deathly still. His eyes scanned over her body heatedly, not with lust but with anger. His gaze burned over her face and then her scars where Evan Rosier's blood was now dried and painted over her skin. The white swirls of her scars blended with the coating of red almost elegantly. It seemed strangely appropriate in a way.

"You should take a shower," he whispered stiffly, eyes still fixed on her form, but not her face.

She nodded weakly and started towards the bathroom but stopped to look at him. She hesitated for a moment but spoke anyway.

"You have blood all over your arms," she said quietly, gesturing at his skin.

He looked down at his hands, which were coated in a mixture of Marlene and Evan Rosier's blood. Beneath his nails were caked crescents of rust and dirt, and his forearms were stained with large splatters of red and brown. He frowned, as if surprised to see it all there. He looked incredibly lost, confused. The pool rose to submerge her further, but she pushed it back. She took one of his hands gently, and before he could protest, she pulled him quietly towards her bathroom.

In the harsh light and bright white tiles, Rowan had to squint slightly. Her eyes had been so adjusted to the dark that it was painful. She moved to turn on the shower. When she turned back around, Remus was looking at the running water with confusion. She noted how odd it was that he looked more dazed than she at all of this. He'd been so certain before she'd interrupted him. Why was he so lost now?

He didn't move, just continued to watch the water, so she moved forward and began to make work of his clothing. As she reached for his trousers, his hands seized hers impulsively. She froze and looked up at him. His eyes were wide, nostrils flaring. She could almost see the fear trickling through his veins.

"I can't," he choked out. "This is- this isn't… We can't…" he babbled nonsensically. The pool submerged her again, lapping at her face. It splashed roughly against her, but she did her best to ignore it.

"Remus, it's just a shower. We've done this hundreds of times. It doesn't have to mean anything," she said quietly.

_But it will always mean something_.

She pressed herself against him slowly, gently, so that their hands were held between their chests with a light pressure. His grip on her wrists loosened. She stepped away from him, and his arms fell back down slowly. She paused a moment and assessed him. The lines in his face were deeper than ever. He looked strangely small.

She ignored the pang in her chest and moved back to his clothing. She pulled his shirt gently, standing on her toes to pull it over his head and tossing it out of the bathroom gently. His arms were coated in red, which shown brightly against his pale skin and the white tiles of the bathroom. It stained all the way up his forearms. Next, she made a move to remove his pants but then realized that he still wore his heavy leather boots and started to lower herself to his feet, but he grabbed her shoulders suddenly.

"Don't," he whispered. She looked at him with slight panic, but then he stooped down low and began to remove them himself. She watched him awkwardly as he untied and loosened the laces of his boots before realizing that she still wore her underwear. She suddenly felt strangely self-conscious but tried to push the discomfort away. She moved her fingers to the edge of her sports bra and peeled it over her head. She noticed the bloodstains caked at the straps as she held it, thick and congealed and already browning. There was no way she would be able to get those stains out.

As she threw it into the trash bin, she noticed that Remus had finished removing his shoes and was staring at her with such a pained expression that her skin seared. His eyes trailed over her longingly, and she wondered for a moment if this was a good idea. But she was too tired to second-guess herself. She'd worry about it in the morning.

She looked away with mild embarrassment but hooked her thumbs into the sides of her underwear and began pulling the small article down her legs. Remus didn't move, and she knew his eyes were following the simple gesture. Her face burned slightly at the knowledge but made no indication that she noticed it. She pulled the elastic from the end of her hair and let the tight braid unravel slowly. Her scalp ached slightly.

As Rowan moved to enter the shower, she paused to look at Remus. His pants were still on. His bare feet poked out from underneath the black fabric. It seemed strangely intimate. He seemed to wake from a trance and looked down at his remaining clothing and began working on it quickly. Her mouth twitched, and she moved into the water.

It was hot, searing. She almost hoped it would burn her skin away and take all of the sins of the night with it. She looked down at her skin and saw several small streams of red and brown dancing through the water and down her legs. They flowed smoothly against the white tub and down the drain. The implications of the blood seemed to weigh down on her slowly.

She had killed someone.

Her hand hadn't been the one to drive the dagger into Evan Rosier's back, but she'd beaten him, tortured him. She'd had every intention of killing him before Bellatrix's attack, hadn't she? She flexed her hands experimentally and felt a sharp ache shoot through her fingers and knuckles. It seared up her arms, and she knew they'd be sore in the morning. She could tell her hands were extremely swollen. She was afraid to look at them.

The memories of Rosier's bones breaking beneath her fists suddenly came rushing back with a wave of nausea. His cheeks had cracked against her knuckles. His skin had torn open as she'd slammed his face into the dirt. She'd shattered his ribs, relished his screams like a symphony. She'd tortured him, watched him writhe in agony without an ounce of regret.

Shouldn't she regret it?

The pool of grief surged forward violently, seeping into her mouth and nostrils. It forced its way into her lungs, and she swallowed it down, forced herself to not choke. The answer was surprisingly clear, like a sliver of light cutting through the dark: She _didn't_.

She was suddenly exhausted. She felt absolutely no remorse, no horror at her own actions. There was a vague, abstract fear of what it implied of her, but as she thought of Evan Rosier's bloodied broken face, the sounds of his shrieks, she only felt emptiness. There was no longer any anger, no satisfaction. It all seemed very meaningless. What did it matter? He was just another Death Eater, and she was just another soldier. Neither of their lives held much weight in the great scheme of things. The war and the world would continue on without them.

_Murderer_.

She watched as Rosier's blood trickled down her arms and dripped onto the tub from her chin. The feeling of his mouth against her cheek seemed to sear itself into her flesh, and her skin crawled at the memory. She thought numbly of the laughter in his eyes even as he laid dead on the ground. She thought of poor Marlene McKinnon's body, which laid so close to his. Had the Ministry found them yet? It was hard to believe that she'd watched them both die in a dark street not even an hour before.

The shower curtain shifted behind her, and she knew that Remus had finally joined her. He didn't move to touch her, not that she'd expected him to, and they stood in silence for a few moments. She kept her head downward, back facing him. The dried blood on her shoulder was still peeling away slowly. She wondered if it still remained on her face too. She saw a new large stream of red flowed past her feet from behind and knew that it came from Remus' arms. Her hair stuck wetly to her skin. She suddenly wanted to cut all of it off.

Finally, she felt a warm hand grasp her arm gently, and she let Remus turn her slowly. His hands held her shoulders firmly. She kept her gaze on his chest, which glistened from the water. He had a new large scar across his sternum that she didn't recognize. Her eyes burned over it, memorizing its angle, its shape. Her fingers itched to touch it.

They stood in silence for a while. Rowan kept her focus on his chest. She wasn't sure where he was looking, but the electric tension in his arms remained. She finally met his gaze then stooped down and picked up the bar of soap. His eyebrows furrowed with confusion as she handed it to him wordlessly. He took it cautiously and just stared at it for a moment before she offered her arm to him.

He looked at her with a firm expression for a moment, but she just gazed back softly. Finally, he seemed to understand and lowered his gaze to her arms, scrubbing her skin with the bar of soap. He started tentatively but eventually worked into a hard rhythm.

His hands worked over her body mindlessly. She watched his face as he moved – the hard look in his eyes remained but it wasn't as pained as before. There was a sort of emptiness behind them. She wondered what he was thinking, _if_ he was thinking at all. His hands paid special attention to the scars on her right shoulder, eyes softening with grief as they trailed over the milky white flesh.

She knew he needed this, and though it made her uncomfortable to have his hands on her in such an intimate way again, it also comforted her to know that she could still offer him something. It was sort of sick, she supposed – their entire relationship. He kept her at arms' length when it was safe, and yet, as soon as she got hurt, he'd be there with frantic hands and eyes. Was it wrong to even let him near her? Wasn't it sort of abusive in a way?

But then he was leaning forward, and before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers. They grazed her gently, like a whisper. She was hesitant to even call it a kiss. She closed her eyes, blind, deaf. The water hit her back rhythmically. It was almost numb. But she felt his hands grip her shoulders tightly and her chest constricted painfully. His lips trailed up her cheeks, over her eyelids. He pulled her in closer to him gently, and the heat between them seared through her chest and spread through her ribs. His lips pressed against her temple firmly. She tilted her head to give him access. He then closed the gap and pulled her against him tightly, wrapping his arms around her. His skin burned against hers, achingly familiar. She felt his breath come shakily, trembling against her.

"Why?" he whispered into her skin. "Why can't I let go of you?"

The grief crashed against her roughly. She weakly let it sweep her away. "Maybe you were never supposed to," she said. She didn't understand her own words. They simply fell from her mouth without thought.

His grip on her tightened almost painfully. Her arms hung limply at her sides though they ached to touch him. She was afraid he would dissolve away with the blood and water.

They stood in silence beneath the water for a small eternity. Rowan felt her grief wash her onto the sharp rocks of the shore. She laid broken at the jagged edges.

Finally, he shifted against her, and she moved slightly to let his arms fall away. She kept her gaze on his chest, careful not to look down at his nakedness or up at his face. She was afraid of how her body would react to either. He reached behind her carefully and turned off the water. She shivered.

He moved out of the shower first, looking around for a towel. She realized vaguely that she only had one out – it was not like there was anyone else bathing there anymore, she thought rather sadly. She saw him slip out of the bathroom quietly and then return with another from her closet. He wrapped her gently in it, wiping away the droplets of water tenderly. His gaze remained on her face, pained but almost resigned. When he was satisfied, he guided her out of the tub. She moved awkwardly, suddenly very aware of his exposed form and her jerky limbs. He pushed her gently out of the bright light of the bathroom, and her eyes worked with great effort to adjust to the darkness of her room. It seemed odd – hadn't she been more comfortable in the dark before?

As she stood in front of her bed naked, wet, and wrapped in her towel, she felt awkward again. He had dried himself off quickly with the second towel but then abandoned it, stalking towards her completely bare. His pale form was illuminated with the light of the bathroom, hair glowing. She noted how gray it had become over the past year around his temples. She had also found quite a few recently in her own dark locks. She'd felt sort of empty at the discovery, almost as she had when she'd first looked at her scars.

His hands were on her again, and before she had time to react, his mouth was pressing against hers insistently. His fingers tangled almost painfully in her wet hair, and his tongue pushed past her lips hungrily. Her lungs clenched painfully as the water crashed into her violently. It pushed down her throat, and as it hit her stomach, she knew it was fear.

But then he pulled away from her, and she stumbled slightly with the recoil, clutching to her towel almost desperately. Her eyes dazedly focused on the sliver of light pouring from her bathroom. Remus was gone.

She looked around frantically then realized he was at her wardrobe, pulling drawers open quietly. He had a pair of her underwear and a baggy t-shirt in his hands. He'd also been able to find a pair of his old boxers that she'd stolen from him while they were at Hogwarts - she'd always loved wearing his clothes. He looked at the articles in his hands with a hard expression. She wasn't sure if she trusted her voice.

He moved back towards her without meeting her gaze. She limply let go of the towel as he pulled it away from her slowly and dropped it to the floor. He tossed both pairs of underwear onto her bed as he pulled the shirt over her head, gingerly pulling her hair from the collar and smoothing it around her face. His hands were so gentle, his expression pained. She wondered where the rough man from just a few moments before had gone. His shifts were still so confusing to her, even after all their years together.

He picked up her underwear from the bed then knelt down next to her. She thought painfully of their old rendezvous in the Hogwarts library study rooms as she stepped into them carefully. But instead of grazing his fingers up her legs as he used to, he was careful not to touch her until he reached her hips. The space between his fingers and her skin resonated loudly. He adjusted them securely but chastely around her then turned and began pulling on his own.

He didn't seem at all perturbed by his nakedness. He moved with an eerie sense of calm that only seemed to heighten her own anxiety in contrast. As he pulled the article over his hips quietly, she admired his long limbs and the wiry tendons in his chest and arms. He was still nearly as thin as he had been as a teenager. She wondered if he'd ever really fill out as James and Sirius had begun to.

When he turned back to her, she stood still, returning his gaze silently. Once again, she couldn't read him. She realized distantly that he'd always been able to read her expressions almost faultlessly and yet she still found herself grasping for straws around him. It didn't seem fair.

But then she found herself being pushed into the bed with him crawling in next to her. The sheets felt cool against her still-wet skin, but her hair stuck unpleasantly to her face. A part of her wondered if she should tell him to go home, but as she felt his hands grip her back, his chest pressed against her cheek, the water crashed into her again. She tiredly let it sweep her painfully over the rocks of the shore. Perhaps he was the wave. Perhaps the white scars that lined his chest were the jagged edge of the rocks. Her eyelids felt very heavy, her hands very sore. She mused that if she were to drown there, it might not be such a bad way to go.

Her breath came evenly, heavily, as he held her. She noted that he was very awake, but she couldn't find it in herself to keep her eyes open. She tried to focus on the small sliver of light that still cut through the darkness from the bathroom, but it all began to blur together. She couldn't find the light, and as she lost her hold of it, her swollen fingers ached dully.


	33. Of Ever-Reaching Hands

**A/N**: Feeling a little nostalgic. It's just a little short interlude between chapters really. There's some **lightly ****implied** **rated M **stuff here, but not really - it's super subtle. The chapter isn't important to the plot so you can skip over it if you want, but it strangely seemed appropriate. I really enjoyed writing it.

**S38:** Thank you so much! So good to hear from you! ^_^

**missalex3030:** Thank you! I'm glad someone is still in love with him because I'm about to kill him and Rowan for being so difficult to write in the next chapter.

**misslak:** Thank you! I agree - I don't think it's healthy at all, and I'd definitely leave if I were in her place too. I think Rowan will need some convincing too.

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Sorry for the wait! Sorry, no sex for a while haha.

**lovirosa:** Thank you so much for your concern, but I'm doing fine! I actually just removed my stitches today, so I'm healing up really well! And maybe the walls will break down soon...? Sort of...

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 33: Of Ever-Reaching Hands**

Remus lay on his stomach on top of his four-poster bed in just his pajamas. It was a warm Sunday morning and bright light seeped in through the windows of Gryffindor Tower like liquid gold. He noted that certain parts of the room were blank, but it didn't seem odd at all [_shouldn't there be a poster above Sirius' bed?_]. He was propped on his stomach and elbows with a large textbook in front of him, grateful for the emptiness of the room – it was finally quiet for once. He felt the book in his hands, the pages against his fingertips, but it still seemed very distant. He knew he was reading the material, but he couldn't seem to comprehend the information that poured into his eyes. Weren't some of the formulas here wrong? Well, it didn't matter much, he supposed [_but shouldn't it matter?_].

Suddenly, there was a soft pressure on his back. He knew, rather than felt, that it was heavy. He felt warm. There was a rhythmic tapping on the back of his calf, echoing throughout his chest, and he understood that it was an array of small toes. He smiled at the sensation - when had he last felt so happy?

"Lupin, why on earth are you _studying_? I'm needy – pay attention to me," a voice pouted. It echoed behind him, above him, beneath him. He smiled fondly. His eyes were open, but he couldn't see anything except for a white expanse. The voice seemed to paint an out-of-body picture.

But then he was on his back with his hands resting on her thighs. When had he flipped over? She straddled him playfully, eyes dancing in the spring light. She. Her. Rowan. It seemed very normal for her to be a regular character in his musings. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone a day without thinking of her. When had she become such a fixture in his dreams? [_This must be dream. He didn't touch her like this anymore._]

Her hair was tied messily on her head [_or was it down?_]. She wore a baggy t-shirt [_his of course_]. He liked the way it hung from her thin form, how her breasts peaked subtly beneath it [_how he loved to see her cheeks redden when he told her_]. But hanging from her hips were a pair of shorts he didn't remember seeing on her. They looked familiar.

He looked down and saw that he wore the same pair, and he suddenly understood that both were his [_but he'd known, even before he'd seen them_]. She watched his face with amusement, toying with the elastic of his boxers idly. His body stirred slightly at the feeling of her small fingers grazing his lower stomach [_"This might be my favorite spot on you, Remus"]_.

"Rowan, why are you wearing my clothes?" he drawled. Even his own voice was felt, rather than heard. He wanted to glare but knew he couldn't. His face strained with the effort to not smile at this imp of a girl. She grinned. He felt it in his chest, through his fingers. She was so warm.

"You don't think they look good on me?" she asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. His mouth twitched with amusement. He was suddenly aware of the swell of her thighs beneath his hands. He squeezed experimentally [_how long had it been?_].

"Don't try to act cute. I should report you for theft. Then everyone will know that you're a pervert who steals other people's underwear," he teased. She grinned devilishly [_he'd sell his soul to her in an instant_].

"I can take them off then if you want. I suppose I'll just have to bear the humiliation of being seen in my knickers as I return to the girls' dorm. Imagine how embarrassing it'll be to have all the other boys see me in such a compromising position," she said slowly. Her eyes burned through him. Her thumbs hooked into the elastic waistband of her boxers teasingly [_but they were really his, as was she_]. He watched her slide them down her hips slowly. A soft swell of flesh rose up from beneath [_he could taste her there, the feeling of her hips as they trembled against him_].

Suddenly, he was sitting up, fingers in her hair, on her hips, pushing the elastic down, the shirt up. He pressed his mouth against hers, but her lips seemed to elude him. There wasn't enough pressure. The softness of her mouth wasn't there like it always was. His teeth were at her neck [_he loved the way her pale skin reddened_], and her voice reverberated through him [_each whimper was a taunt, soft encouragement to hear his name again_].

Her skin was bare to him, all of the clothing gone from her form. He was inside her, beneath her, above her [_she crawled beneath his skin_]. Her body seemed to melt into him. He moved her so easily, like water [_but wasn't she more like air?_].

"I like wearing your clothes," she whispered.

She was in his arms, but he couldn't feel her. Her eyes shot through him, golden and glowing and burning. James and Peter's beds were gone. The door was missing. There was so much white space and amber and skin. Her sooty eyelashes were on his face, rosy cheeks pressed against his hands. Her voice grazed him, restrained him with his arms pinned down to the bed [_he'd always been her prisoner, from day one_].

"It's like I'm wrapped in you," she echoed.

He groaned. Her hair trailed up his arms, covered his eyes. It hung around them both. Sunlight illuminated it like a wall of dark fire. He wanted to stay there forever, asleep in this world made for them.

"It's like I belong to you."

He wasn't sure if it was her voice anymore or his. His senses swam dizzily with her. Her eyes pierced through him painfully, her fingers simultaneously everywhere at once. Her hair mixed with his. She was covering him with her, drowning him [_oh, punish me_].

"But I don't anymore, do I?"

He opened his eyes [_when had he closed them?_], and she was gone. He knew his arms were there, but he couldn't find them. He sat on their hill, still wrapped in his sheets, but there was no sun, no trees, no lake. He looked around frantically for her, but he couldn't find her anywhere. She'd melded into his being, wrapped herself with him, but he felt incredibly empty. His fingers looked so much longer, so thin ["_I've always loved your hands, Remus"_]. They seemed to stretch forever into the distance. He didn't know where they were reaching.

_You've left me behind_.

She was so far away. The grass dissolved beneath him, but he didn't fall. He just faded away with it. Perhaps he'd find her there in the next dream as well.


	34. Of the Battle's Remains

**A/N**: Decided I'm sick of this entire episode and just want it to be done with. This one was just as hard to write as Chapter 32. It took me like 2 weeks to write this the first time and then I rewrote it another several times. UGH.

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 34: Of the Battle's Remains**

Remus stared up at the ceiling. Yellow morning played across its smooth surface. He knew it wasn't the ceiling of the Gryffindor boys' dorm. The walls were very solid, his limbs very heavy. Even the sunlight that splashed across the walls seemed to hold weight in comparison to the effervescent air of his dream. There was pain in his skin, a restriction of his form. His limbs ached from one joint to the next.

He sat up quickly, lungs searing. The space next to him was empty. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn't his bed.

_Rowan._

He threw the covers off in a swift flick and leapt from the bed. The wooden floor was shockingly cold for the late summer morning, and the space around him vibrated with painful silence. The soles of his feet seemed to crack against the cold as he stumbled around the room in his panic.

"Rowan!" he called out. He flinched at the sound of his own voice. It felt very foreign, almost alien – unwelcome.

But she wasn't there. Every piece of the room spoke of her with sprawling books and papers lying about. Her clothes from the night before were scattered around the floor, and her scent lingered, but it felt like a phantom of her. His eyes fell upon her wand, which lay listlessly on the floor.

A frigid chill shot up his spine.

He was pulling his pants on before he could stop himself, arms and legs jerking wildly through what seemed like a labyrinth of cloth. He had to find her. How could she have left by herself? She couldn't be out there alone without him. How the hell could she have left her wand behind? He needed to be there! What if Death Eaters were around looking for them? What if they found her?

But as he stumbled towards the door and his shoes, he heard the sound of shifting from behind him. He spun around and saw a dark mass of hair peeking up beside the bed from the floor. Relief and confusion washed over him with a forceful wave. He felt his legs sweeping towards her rapidly and loudly.

She was in his arms, mouth pressing against her cheeks and sleep-filled eyes. She was so warm.

"Thank god," he breathed. "Oh, thank god."

* * *

Rowan had woken with a jolt at dawn, heart pounding painfully in her chest and adrenaline searing through her blood. Her limbs felt so heavy, so tired, but she couldn't lie still. Remus' arms still held her.

It was suffocating. Her face and neck were covered in a sticky film of sweat and fear, which stuck to both of their skin and the covers. She wanted to peel her flesh away, burn off all of her hair as it clung to her skin like sucking leeches. Her hands were tangled in it. She screamed out in frustration as she flailed and kicked, not caring if Remus woke up as well. She almost wanted him to. Her muscles screamed with the need to tear and break.

She couldn't breathe. His arms were so much heavier than hers. Her muscles ached and screamed as she pried his hands off of her, and by the time she freed herself, her eyes burned with hot angry tears. She pushed herself away from him and nearly toppled off her side of the bed in her panic. She needed to get away from him; needed air; needed water. Her throat burned.

She rolled out from the covers and onto the floor with a dull thud, relishing the smoothness of the wooden boards. She curled up on the floor and released a shaky sob, breath rattling against her teeth. Her nails dug into the grooves of the wood painfully. She wanted to peel them away along with her skin. The floor beneath her dug painfully into her hips and shoulders as she lay on her side, but it was warm. The hardness of the surface was grounding, comforting almost. It fought back against her joints and bones, and she relished it. She wanted to feel her frame shatter against it.

Stretching her fingers experimentally, Rowan felt her swollen knuckles creak and crackle with palms flat on the floor. She noted that her hands were purple and yellow and red and held a strange, heavy warmth. The coolness of the wood soothed them slightly. She wanted to melt into it, feel her bones meld into the grooves and into the floors below. How beautiful it would be to become a building, a house. Would it be a happier existence?

She felt the wet splattering of blood on her shoulder and the glow of blonde hair in the moonlight and gasped raggedly. Her throat tightened as she thought of the way her knuckles had cracked against shattering bones and rough concrete. Her entire body trembled. A dark voice whispered somewhere from the recesses of her mind.

"_Rowan!"_

She jerked awake. When had she fallen asleep again? She felt the vibration of the floor beneath her, rattling against her bones and teeth and panicked momentarily before realizing that it was Remus.

Remus – she'd forgotten he was there. Where was she? Oh, the floor – should she get up? She should tell him she was there, that she hadn't gone out alone. He must be afraid right now, she thought vaguely. It was cruel to let him keep panicking, wasn't it? But she couldn't find her voice.

Slowly, she tested her hands against the floor and pressed her palms into it. It felt like the ground was being pushed away from her rather than her body pushing upward. Her head swam dizzily as she sat up and stumbled slightly, catching herself against the bed frame noisily. The storm of footsteps stopped and then stampeded towards her, and before she could reorient herself, she was caught in a downpour of arms.

Once again, she was being swept away by the sea. She couldn't breathe. Perhaps she had become the water. Perhaps she'd grown gills overnight and needed the water. But no, it was Remus - _he_ was the water; always had been. She had always clung blindly for every drop of him she could hold onto, but no matter how much she held, he always slipped through her fingers. And now, here he was again, sweeping her out to sea to drown.

"Thank god. Oh, thank god," she heard him breathe into her skin. His mouth was pressing against her everywhere. She was suffocating. Her head thudded dully with pain. Her skin burned. She managed to find register on her hands and pushed firmly against him as she had with the floor.

"Remus," she gasped. She flailed and jerked, but it was as if he couldn't hear her.

"Remus!" said louder, but he continued to hold her tightly in a vice grip. Her lungs burned.

"Remus, _let go!"_ she shouted, shoving him hard with a frustrated cry.

Finally, she was able to wrestle out of his grasp and fell away back against the bedframe with a painful thud. She scooted away from him quickly so that they sat a few feet apart. He sat on his knees, looking confused and hurt. Her face stung with a strange mixture of shame and anger, though she wasn't sure of the reasons for either.

Rowan's chest heaved as her lungs filled with cool air. The panicked suffocating feeling she'd had started to drip away slowly, and she took the time to assess the room around her. It looked exactly the same as it had before she'd left for the mission at Lestrange Manor. She'd somehow expected it to be different – she was almost disappointed that it wasn't.

Remus sat very still in front of her. His hair glowed in the yellow morning light, his scars shining white against his pale skin. He only wore his dark pants from the night before, and she suddenly felt very embarrassed, though she knew there was no reason for it. A muscle in his jaw twitched with effort, and his eyes were shining with hurt. A deep part of her ached desperately for something, but she couldn't be sure what.

They sat in silence as she caught her breath. She didn't know what to say to him, and he seemed to be as equally lost for words.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She couldn't meet his eye. "I just… I..." she trailed off. She looked around weakly for a reason, but she could find none. Her thoughts fell away like sand as soon as she grasped them.

They sat in silence again until he shifted and moved towards her hesitantly. She could feel the weight of his hand in the air between them as he reached for her, and she flinched noticeably as he touched her. She couldn't bear to look at him, to see the hurt in his features. She wanted to scream, burn away the skin where he'd touched her. She was dirty, filthy. Weren't they all?

_Murderer_.

She trembled violently. Images of blonde hair and wide red mouths flashed through her mind, and her stomach was immediately in her lungs. She spun wildly to the side as the contents of her stomach threatened to rush up her throat, choking and gasping, but she forced the sickness back down. Hot shameful tears sprang to her eyes. She was disgusting – how could she do this in front of Remus? What was _wrong_ with her?

Her diaphragm spasmed slightly as she fought for air. Perhaps she really had drowned and swallowed the sea. She saw drops falling from her cheeks onto the wooden floor. She felt the overwhelming shame overcome her as her tears splashed and bounced, and when gentle fingers began to pull her hair from her face, tying it back softly, her entire body shook and trembled. The feeling of Remus' warm hands on her back and tense neck muscles made her want to scream with self-disgust.

_Murderer._

Rowan could feel the bubbling gushing of blood and saliva on her cheek as Evan Rosier smeared his wet mouth across her face. She could see the light leave Marlene McKinnon's eyes and the vibration of the ground as her body hit it. She wanted to scream, to peel her skin away and cut her hair off. She was filthy. She wanted to burn it all away.

Finally, her tears and sobs subsided, but his hands remained on her. Her body still trembled slightly, but her lungs no longer burned; her eyes were no longer blinded with tears. With a wave of her hand, the small pool of shame vanished. She rested her hands on the floor in front of her as her knees dug into the wood painfully, but she savored the ache.

"I'm fine now," she whispered.

Remus' hand stopped suddenly. The silence between them was heavy for a moment but then he moved to grip her arm, pulling her towards him. Panic seized her again and she yanked her arm away from him quickly.

"Don't," she blurted. She still couldn't look at him. She couldn't bear the thought of him touching her even more.

"Winnie, please," he whispered, fingers hovering over her with need. But she pulled away from him and moved to her feet quickly, staggering slightly under the weight of her own frame as the world shifted around her. He also stood, quickly grabbing her arms to steady her, but she once again jerked away from him.

"Don't!" she growled. Remus' face twisted with frustration.

"Winnie, just let me help you!" he protested. He held her firmly this time so that she couldn't pull away, but she yanked her arms wildly anyway.

"Leave me alone!" she cried out indignantly. She flailed and wrestled against him with grunting effort, but he held fast and strong to her wrists.

"Rowan. Stop it! _Stop!_" he barked, but she continued to fight him. He saw red. He shook her violently in his rage, the dark voice within him roaring deafeningly.

"I said, STOP!"

Rowan's body immediately ceased its flailing with wide, eyes. But they weren't fearful – they were angry. Her chin shot upward, eyes burning into him with barely contained fury. Remus leaned back as if afraid of her.

"Where the fuck do you get off?" she seethed. He flinched at the venomous tone of her voice. She felt vindicated by it. "You have no right to tell me what to do! None!" she shouted. "Why don't you mind your own god damn business? Leave me the fuck alone!"

His gaze darkened. Rowan noted somewhere in the recesses of her mind that she should be afraid, but she was too angry, too furious, to respond to the nagging voice. She wanted to feel breaking and tearing beneath her knuckles again. She wanted her hands to ache even more.

"You _are_ my god damn business!" he spat. He held her wrists almost painfully tight, but she refused to budge. She held his gaze fiercely. "_E__verything_ you do is my business. I'm not going anywhere, so just _shut up!"_

Rowan's entire body shook with rage. "_How dare you?_" she shouted. She beat her fists desperately against his chest, but he held her tightly. She screamed with frustration. "You have no right! NONE! You're not my father, not my boyfriend. I don't fucking know _what _you are, but you have absolutely _no right!_"

She wanted to beat him senseless, feel the cracking of his bones against her hands. Her mind was a blank slate of rage and blind fury. Her limbs seemed to burn with fire in her blood as she screamed and flailed. She even resorted to kicking him, but he simply absorbed her blows with nothing more than a few grunts of pain. She tried to take him down to the floor with her, but he stood strong and tall. Her entire body roared with anger. She wanted him to feel it.

Her skin was suddenly burning and wet, and she realized with horror that she was crying again. Face burning with shame, her entire frame seemed to go rigid as she felt the tears trickling down her cheeks. She quickly averted her face to hide it from Remus' eyes.

But he noticed. He always noticed.

"Winnie," he breathed. He moved them to the bed and sat her down, quickly releasing her wrists, which seemed to ignite as the blood rushed back into them. His hands were suddenly on her face, cradling her cheeks gently. The dark rage was gone from his eyes, replaced with panic. Her body went limp.

"Darling, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-" he rambled fearfully, but she shook her head and pushed him away again. His eyes filled with hurt.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she choked. His hands held hers gently. The soft touch made her skin crawl with shame.

She had just wanted to hurt _him!_ She'd wanted to hurt him the same way she'd hurt _Rosier!_ What was wrong with her? Hadn't she already done enough?

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I just… I need you to be safe. I-I panicked. It was selfish to force my feelings on you. I'm sorry, Winnie. Please, just-"

"You don't get it," she spat. He looked at her fearfully. A dark, shameful part of her relished it. She held his gaze with hard eyes. "This isn't about you. None of this has to fucking do with you!"

His eyes widened with hurt, but her blood boiled away any regret that formed. She would see this through. She'd make him see how ugly she was.

"I killed someone last night," she snarled. His eyes widened, grip loosening slightly on her. Her hands stung as the blood rushed through her black and blue fingers.

"I killed someone, and now you're here and I don't fucking know what the hell is going on! I can't breathe or think o-or see! I just want - I need - _Why are you even here? I don't know what you fucking want from me!_" she spat.

_I wanted to hurt you too._ Her blood felt cold.

And there she was - the husk, the end of sickness.

"There is nothing here for you to save anymore," she breathed.

The air seemed to drip away from her lungs, but she didn't need it. It seemed to leave a stream of ice in its wake. No - it had been forming for a long time. She'd finally just noticed it, like a long-hidden plague. Burning it away _would_ be the best decision.

"You're wasting your time. You should just… leave me alone."

She pulled her hands from his grasp and turned her face away from him. Everything seemed to pull from her slowly, sucking from her veins and stomach. She wanted him gone. She wanted everyone gone. She wanted to sleep forever. The silence washed over her heavily, pulling her eyelids down with it. She was so tired, so sore. She wanted to drown in the silence.

But then he grabbed her hands again.

"W-wh-" she sputtered, but she was cut off as Remus' mouth pressed hotly to hers. Her cheeks seared red and her hands fought against him, but he held her tightly, holding her hands against his chest with fingers wrapped around her wrists. She twisted her head away, peeling her mouth from his.

"Remus, what are-" she gasped.

"You will always be worth saving," he whispered.

She froze. His mouth rested against her jaw, head pressed to her cheek. She felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, which only seemed to highlight her own ragged breathing in contrast. She wanted to pull away from him but couldn't seem to feel her arms and legs. Her ears roared deafeningly.

He pulled away slowly from her, pressing his lips against her neck, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Her lips trembled as she felt her eyes well up hotly again, and her mind screamed insults at her for her weakness. He drew her hands up to his mouth and pressed his lips against her swollen, bruised knuckles. She trembled with humiliation.

"There is no part of you that will ever be dirty to me," he whispered against her fingers. The tears fell. "You can beat me, insult me – even hate me. I will always be here to take the blows for you or from you – whatever you desire, whatever you need. Do you understand?"

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and her chest clenched painfully. His eyes glowed green and brown in the morning light, and his words filled her lungs slowly and fully, stretching them almost to the point of pain. Her tears were falling freely now; she couldn't stop them. His gaze seemed to pierce through her sharply. She wanted to tear her eyes from his face but couldn't find control over anything.

Hesitantly, painfully slow, Remus leaned forward. One of his hands released hers, but she couldn't pull away. It slid into her hair, grasping the nape of her neck gently, and his lips were pressing against hers again. They slid over her skin, pressed against her forehead, her cheeks. His heat was everywhere. She couldn't breathe.

"No," she gasped. "You don't-"

"But I do," he breathed. Her limbs froze, turned to stone. She felt so heavy against him. His hands gripped her tightly again. She thought his body might swallow her.

"I completely understand. I know what it's like... to be blinded, consumed by anger. I know how frightening, how horrifying it is... I know what it's like to be overwhelmed with the desire to hurt people... even those I love." Tears fell from her eyes again. Her entire body shook.

"We all have our demons. Yours have just screamed louder than most."

Her chest clenched painfully as she choked on her own breath. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, and before she could protest, he'd pulled her into his lap so that she straddled him. His hands burned up her back and held her tightly against him, cradling her small form against his chest and burying his face in her hair.

"You are not defined by the darkness inside of you, Rowan."

Rowan gasped against his skin, clinging to him desperately. His skin burned through hers, scalded her painfully. He was much too good to her, too kind. She wanted to laugh bitterly as he spoke such lovely words to her that he couldn't seem to understand for himself. It was cruel.

Her fingers dug into his skin, but he didn't pull away. She wondered vaguely if she was hurting him, but she needed to be closer, to feel all of him. She was desperate to press every inch of herself against him.

"You're so stupid," she whispered into his shoulders. She held him even more tightly, if possible. "Y-you… Why can't you see…?"

He squeezed her against him, and she felt his own chest tremble. It vibrated through her ribs and into her heart. She wondered if he could feel her heartbeat.

"I know," he whispered. "I'm trying."

She didn't know how long they stayed there or even when he moved her into the bed. She couldn't remember when she fell asleep. He was around her, above her, beneath her. She breathed him in and, for the first time in ages, slept dreamlessly. Time blurred noiselessly.

When she woke, she knew he was gone even before opening her eyes, and she cried quietly into the space he'd left in her bed, wishing to grip the scent of him in her fingers. She didn't know when or where he'd gone. She could almost believe he hadn't been there to begin with, if it weren't for the few stray gray hairs that were left on her pillows. She couldn't imagine the thoughts in his head, couldn't imagine his feelings. She hadn't felt so far away from him in ages. The dark voice in her was silent again, but it left a void so empty, so deep, that all of her thoughts seemed to echo within it endlessly.

She curled up in her sheets and willed herself back to sleep – alone – just like she had wanted. Silence had never felt like such a burden.


	35. Of Precious Moments with Precious People

**A/N**: Straight talk from Dumbledore and the Potters. They haven't gotten enough screen time recently anyway. Maybe Sirius will make an appearance soon too.

**missalex3030:** Ok, now you're just setting yourself up for disappointment haha. I've already written something of the sort, but I wouldn't call it "epic"... Maybe less of a bang and more of a sizzle? But thanks for still being excited! I know I've been leading all of you on for a while now with these two.

**S38:** Hahaha sorry, but maybe soon...? And good question, but no, not yet. He'll make an appearance soon though.

**MorningThief:** Hello, and thank you so much! It's great to hear from another reader, and I'm so happy you're enjoying it! Thank you for the incredibly kind review!

**snuffles95:** Thank you so much as always! It's always wonderful hearing from you ^_^

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** I'll leave that up to you to interpret hehe. And 5 days seems to be the trend lately, doesn't it? It's not on purpose - it just seems to be the way I've been feeling recently about updating. Thanks for being there, as always!

**lovirosa:** Haha thank you, thank you! And soon! Be patient with me!

**REVIEW MEEEEEE PLEEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 35: Of Precious Moments with Precious People**

The Order of the Phoenix met two days after the tragic mission in Wigtown to discuss what had happened and their next steps. It was a particularly grave meeting as the mission had been a great blow to their morale, even if it had been a great victory on paper. Even Dumbledore was present.

Marlene's body had been recovered by the Ministry - much to everyone's relief - along with the rest of the fallen Death Eaters. Seven had been arrested while another four had been found dead, including Evan Rosier. The massacre had been enough to earn a search warrant for Lestrange Manor, but nothing of sufficient suspicion could be found, not even Bellatrix's dagger, which had disappeared from Rosier's body. They assumed that the McKinnons' parents' bodies had been disposed of in some way before the Ministry officials had arrived. Rowan wondered painfully where they were.

Derek McKinnon had been unresponsive since being rescued. He had also been tortured and questioned, though not nearly to the same extent as his sister it seemed. The worst physical damage had been done to Marlene, but every gash and cut put into her skin seemed to now be engraved in his heart. He remained in St. Mungo's, unseeing and unhearing. Rowan had gone to see him earlier that day, but he hadn't even acknowledged the Healers, let alone his visitors. The disgust she felt with herself nearly doubled.

The Order discussed what had gone wrong, and it was agreed that nothing could have been done really to save Marlene. The McKinnons had been too injured to ensure a flawless rescue – they'd simply been too late. The Aurors within the group reported that Abraham Avery Jr. was pleading the Imperius Curse, which was becoming an increasingly popular excuse as the Death Eaters had been using it more often as of late. Many of his fellow Death Eaters seemed to be following his example. Rowan saw Minerva McGonagall bristle slightly at Avery's name and hold a hand to the high collar of her robes. She wondered if the bruises around her neck had fully healed.

Finally, at the end of the meeting, McGonagall and Dumbledore nodded to Rowan, and she stood nervously. Her hands trembled as all eyes were on her, and she was suddenly reminded of her father's funeral. But this was no noble eulogy – it was a declaration of cowardice.

"Hi, everyone," Rowan said quietly. She already felt her courage waning, but she forced her head to remain up with great effort, though she kept her gaze on the far wall.

"I wanted to apologize… for my behavior during the mission the other night," she breathed shakily. "I went against protocol and placed all of you in unspeakable danger. It was inexcusable, and I can't apologize to you enough. I'm just… so, so sorry," she apologized sadly. Her voice trembled, and her body seemed to bow with effort. Her head finally dropped in shame. She gazed at the polished tabletop with heat at the back of her throat.

"Rowan, there's nothing to apologize for," an even voice called out from down the table. It was Arthur Weasley. He peered down the table at her calmly, and she felt even more ashamed at the sight of her partner – she'd endangered him especially, _again_.

"Yes, you did go against protocol, and it was incredibly foolish, but we understand. You acted to protect Sirius, and Evan Rosier deserved what he got. None of us have the right to be angry. I think any of us would have made the same decision had we been in your place," he reasoned gently. His eyes crinkled warmly, and Rowan wanted to curl up and disappear in the face of his kindness.

"Yeah, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be here. You saved my life, Winnie," Sirius said firmly. A few small murmurs in agreement echoed around, but Rowan was still afraid to lift her head. Just because the more sympathetic members understood didn't mean that they weren't all okay with what happened. Moody was probably furious with her. Her face still burned with shame.

"I… Even so, I need to apologize... And I'd like to request to be taken off of the higher risk missions for the time being," she said shakily.

A series of indignant shouts were heard down the table from James, Sirius, and the Prewett brothers. McGonagall pounded the table for order. Rowan felt her face burn hotly and kept her eyes downward. Her chest ached with shame, but she stayed resolute. She lifted her head hesitantly to look at McGonagall. The older woman's lips were pursed tightly as she gazed at her searchingly.

"Are you sure about this, Delacroix? You've been an invaluable member to the high-intensity team. Surely, you won't be satisfied with the low-risk missions," she said carefully. She eyed the younger woman seriously, but Rowan shook her head.

"I know," she said quietly. "I know. It's just that I… I'm not in a right state after what happened. I- with Rosier… I nearly…" she trailed off. _I killed him_, she thought. It echoed through her chest. She breathed shakily.

"I just need some time to gather my thoughts before I can trust myself as a member of this team again. I need to know that I won't be jeopardizing the rest of your lives as well. I'd still like to be involved with the less critical missions and I'll even take on more night patrol shifts to make up for it, but I can't handle the thought of more dangerous operations for right now… I'm really sorry…" she said weakly. Her head fell again.

The other members remained silent for a moment, and she kept her gaze downward. She couldn't bear to look at her friends, who were all so much braver than she. She was a right coward. Her father would be ashamed to call her a Gryffindor.

"Well, if you feel that way, then I suppose we must trust your judgment. I will reassign you to the lower intensity missions for now in the meantime," Dumbledore said quietly. She looked up with surprise to see the old wizard gazing at her softly. He rarely came to meetings and even more rarely spoke in discussions, leaving the debates to the rest of them and speaking only as moderator and the final judge. Her face burned. There could be no greater shame than admitting cowardice to the greatest wizard of the age. He gazed at her gently over his half-moon spectacles.

"But just know that the darkness you feel isn't abnormal, Rowan. It's a voice that lies in all of us and is something we must all confront during these dark times. You are not alone when you fear the terrible things that of which you are capable. And it's the doubt, the abhorrence you feel in the face of those impulses that set you apart from the true villains. There is darkness in all of us, but there is always light to cut through it. Do not doubt the good that is in you, or it will tear you apart," he said seriously.

Rowan was sure that her cheeks would burn away. Dumbledore spoke the same words that Remus had the other night, but for some reason, despite all of her awe and reverence for the older man, she felt nothing but humiliation and a stab of anger in hearing them from him. She wished she could disappear.

"Evil men like Evan Rosier will always walk this earth," he continued quietly. "And they will hold mirrors up to your face that will make you question everything you've ever thought to be true – even your own nature. You will see things that will shock and even disgust you, but I assure you that the reflection there is a distorted reality. What you see is not how the rest of the world views you or how you should view yourself. You are much stronger, much better than what you make yourself out to be."

Rowan's throat constricted at Dumbledore's words. He looked at her knowingly, and she knew somehow that he could hear her thoughts. He smiled softly. She grimaced – he certainly heard them.

"Sometimes we lose sight of ourselves, and the only people who can guide you back are those who care about you. Do not close yourself off, Rowan. Take the time you need, but make sure to come back home to your family here. We'll be waiting for you when you're ready."

Her throat tightened painfully, but it was less severe than before. She still felt empty, but she tried to push the feeling away. She nodded.

"Thank you, Professor."

* * *

As the meeting ended, Rowan stood slowly from the table, letting the rest move from the dining room before she made her way to leave. She felt Remus' gaze burn into her from across the room and a terrible ache spread through her gut. She hadn't seen him since she'd woken up to find him gone two days before, and the last thing she wanted was to speak to him now. She didn't even know what to say, or how to think of their relationship at all. The thought of being alone with him made her stomach hit her throat with nausea. She just wanted to leave. She wanted him to leave her alone. She wanted to disappear.

But just as he moved towards her, her maelstrom of dark thoughts was interrupted.

"Oy, Winnie!" a voice called out from down the table.

Her head jerked up and saw James walking over towards her briskly. Warm relief washed over her like spring sunlight.

"Let me walk you home," he said firmly. His gaze was hard. It startled her momentarily. He then turned to Remus. "Can you make sure Lily gets home okay? I need to talk to this one," he said.

Remus' mouth held a tight line. He glanced down at Rowan, but she kept her gaze averted with embarrassment. She could feel his eyes burn into her. His gaze hardened minutely before turning back to James and nodding solemnly. James clapped him on the shoulder, and the light-haired man moved down the table towards Lily.

Rowan looked up at James warily. He smiled warmly at her.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded and they set out together. He gripped her hand as they stepped out into the warm night, and she guided them both into the void.

* * *

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asked quietly as they walked down her street. She'd Apparated them a little further than she and Remus usually walked to allow them more time to talk. She imagined he was going to interrogate her and was waiting almost resignedly for the verbal barrage. They walked slowly with eyes focused ahead.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay," he said softly. She smiled almost wryly to herself.

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "I just need some time to myself to reflect on everything. The last mission was overwhelming."

James nodded gravely but didn't respond. They walked in silence for a few moments. Rowan looked up at the sky – she couldn't see the moon. She should use her time away from the Order to work.

"Have you talked to Barty recently?" he asked carefully. Rowan sighed tiredly.

"No, not for about five days or so," she said. She hadn't thought of Barty since before the mission in Wigtown. He was yet another man she dreaded speaking to.

James nodded. "What're you going to do about him?" he asked.

"I suppose I'll end our arrangement," she said softly. "No use in keeping it up anymore… now that Rosier's gone." She felt surprisingly empty at the thought – yet another failed relationship with a seemingly compatible man.

"Would you ever consider getting back together with Remus?" James asked.

Rowan's mouth twitched with bitter amusement. She thought hard about the question. It weighed down heavily on her like a burden.

"I don't know," she admitted. He looked at her with mild confusion, and she smiled thinly. "I don't know what to think anymore or if I even want to be with him. I still love him but…" She thought for a moment if it would be good idea to tell James her insecurities. He'd always been fiercely protective over her, even going so far as to pick fights with Remus when he didn't agree with their relationship. Remus certainly didn't need any more stress.

She nearly laughed. How could she still be worrying about him after he'd essentially left her again? It was cruel how her mind always considered his feelings first.

"But…?" James urged. She sighed.

"I'm beginning to think that perhaps he might just be in love with the idea of me and not who I actually am," she admitted softly. James' brows furrowed with confusion. "I think he sees me more as something to be protected, something abstractly good. Sometimes I wonder if being with him, even as a friend, is actually doing him more harm than good. I mean, most of our relationship has been based on longing at this point – doesn't that show how bad we are together in reality?"

She looked up at the sky again sadly. It felt empty to hear the words solidify after they'd been brewing in her darkest thoughts for so long. The sky was strangely empty as well. Her chest ached dully.

"What?" James asked incredulously. He gaped at her. She almost found it amusing. He stopped in his tracks, and she turned to look at him. The sparks in his gaze were unsettling.

"You don't really believe that, do you?" he asked. The sharpness of his tone gave her pause. She watched him warily.

"I don't know what to believe," she said honestly, shrugging slightly.

She looked away dazedly and gazed at one of the nicer apartment buildings on her street. One of the windows had an arrangement of yellow chrysanthemums in the windowsill – an autumnal flower. It was still unbearably humid, but she realized fall was approaching once again. Her arm tingled slightly – it had nearly been a year since she'd received those scars.

It had nearly been a year since Remus had left her.

"I think that's bull shit," James declared suddenly, interrupting her thoughts. She eyed him carefully but didn't respond.

"I know I can't possibly understand all the workings of your relationship," he finally said slowly, "but I can't believe that Remus would be so short-sighted and selfish to drag you on like this out of some vague obsession for your more abstract qualities, and if you feel that way, you should say something to him." His gaze was burning, but she only felt mildly warm. She took in his words almost numbly. They sounded very nice, but she knew that James' world was much more black and white than hers. Hers was stained red and green, which mixed muddily throughout.

Rowan sighed. "He hasn't been 'dragging me on' though," she countered lightly. The yellow blossoms in the windowsill hadn't bloomed fully. She found it disheartening – would it be this hot for much longer?

"We've been broken up for nearly a year now," she said softly, perhaps to herself mostly. James' expression still remained hard. "There's really nothing to discuss about us getting back together. Even if he still loves me, he's made it clear that we won't be crossing that line again."

She kept her gaze on the flowers. She thought of the flowers Barty would bring her and the way each bouquet had slowly died in its vase. She realized the monkshood blossoms still remained on her kitchen counter. She should throw those out soon too.

"That doesn't mean anything," James protested. Rowan looked back at him tiredly. He glared hard at her.

"I know you don't believe me," he said petulantly. She almost smiled guiltily at him. "I mean it though. He's always been in love with you. We all see it, even if you don't. If anyone was ever meant to be together, it was you two," he said fervently.

She wanted to laugh. Surely he was talking about himself and Lily? She felt her lips twitch with bitter amusement.

"No, James, I-" she started.

"No, shut up," he spat. She gaped at him with confusion and mild hurt. He hadn't spoken to her so harshly in years. It stung lightly in her chest.

"A lot has happened between you two over the past couple of years, and Remus is more fucked up than most," he said angrily. His eyes flashed dangerously. "But you, of all people, should know that he's more genuine and honest than anyone else. If he says he loves you, then he fucking loves you. What else do you need for him to do – write it out in blood?"

Her anger flickered, but it was overcome with grief. How could she make him understand?

"It doesn't matter if he loves me!" she argued indignantly. James opened his mouth as if to counter, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't!" she argued hotly. "What difference does it make if he doesn't care enough to stay?" She looked up desperately, as if searching for answers. It was cloudy with dark gray splashes against a black sky. She felt empty at the lack of moon.

Her hair clung to her face again in the heat, and she groped around her wrist furiously for an elastic band, tying her hair to the top of her head messily. She declared silently that she'd hack it all off at the first opportunity.

"Don't I deserve to have someone who cares enough to be with me?" she asked desperately. Her words evaporated into the sky. She wondered to where they'd float. She wondered if anyone would ever answer.

The two stood in the silent humidity together. The moisture in the air draped over them heavily. She knew they should keep walking – it was dangerous for them to be out there in the middle of the night, after all – but she couldn't find her feet. It seemed so petty to be discussing such a trivial matter as her relationship with someone she wasn't even with anymore in the midst of war.

"I know I don't have the words to convince you that what I'm saying is true," James said softly, "But it is. If I know anything, it's that Remus loves you. You just have to believe it. You're discrediting both him and yourself by doubting what you two have."

Rowan breathed raggedly, swallowing down her protests and sorrow. She knew arguing with him would do no good, and her anger was suddenly gone.

"If you say so," she responded quietly.

* * *

They stayed silent for the rest of the way back to Rowan's flat. Once they reached her front stoop, James stood on the stairs next to her. She could see that he had more to say, so she paused and looked up at him after pushing her key into the lock. He gazed at her intensely.

"About Rosier," he started carefully.

Rowan felt the blood drain from her face and her lungs constrict. James was the last person she wanted to talk to about this. He was a good man – a man with endless optimism and one who never thought poorly of his friends. It would destroy her even more to hear him tell her that she was still a good person – it seemed very empty, almost cheap.

"I know," she said stiffly. She wanted to drop this immediately. She was terrified of having this conversation with him.

"No," he said firmly, eyes hard. Her stomach clenched. Why couldn't he let this go?

"I know how you think. I can only imagine the internal struggle you're having right now because I know how hypercritical you are of yourself, but you really don't need to be. You're an incredibly strong and kind person, Winnie, and the world is better off with you in it," he said fervently.

Rowan wanted to curl up and die. He'd just said to her all the things she _didn't_ want to hear from him. He thought she felt guilty for killing Rosier when, in fact, _she didn't_. She didn't feel bad. She felt bad for _not _feeling bad, in some vague, abstract sense. It had nothing to do with the fact that she'd taken a life but more so because she'd gone against all of man's most critical laws and felt absolutely no remorse about it. Didn't that make her nothing more than an animal?

"Stop it," he said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up at him, startled.

"Last year after Dad died, I was a mess," he admitted. Her side suddenly burned at the memory of the Frost Fire there as she'd pushed him out of the way of the curse. She trembled at the thought of John Potter's body lying still in the dark.

"It's a terrible feeling – knowing that you want to hurt someone and not being ashamed of it. It took someone like you to snap me out of it, and it took Lily's forgiveness to make me realize that I wasn't a monster," he said darkly. His gaze was hard. She faltered under its weight.

"_You _are not a monster, Winnie, so don't treat yourself like one."

Her lips trembled as his words sunk into her. They remained shallow, but they still hummed and resonated in her chest. She shook with effort to contain it, but she felt it frothing beneath her skin. His gaze softened as he saw her fight the tears down, and as he pulled her towards him, a few escaped, soaking into his shirt. It was so familiar, yet strangely lonely – his shoulders were so much broader than she wanted them to be. He was so much taller than she was. When had he become an adult? When had her best friend left her behind?

After a few moments, he squeezed her tightly again before pulling away and holding her by the shoulders. He smiled softly at her, brown eyes twinkling with warmth. Her heart swelled with gratitude.

"Thank you, Jamie," she said. She felt like her chest might burst.

"Of course," he said warmly. He then grinned. "Better get inside. Your face looks like it is about to melt off," he teased. She scowled and punched his arm roughly, but he just laughed and mussed up her hair. He said his goodbyes and hopped down the stairs, and with a pop he was gone. She stared at the spot for a moment fondly before moving inside, smiling for the first time in nearly a week.

* * *

Remus sat tiredly at Lily and James' kitchen table with a mug of tea in his hands. After he'd walked Lily home from the Order meeting, she'd insisted that he come in to catch up. It had been a long time since he'd stepped foot into their flat – when was the last time he'd really spent time with his married friends? He suddenly felt incredibly guilty.

Lily sat down across from him with her own mug and gazed at him thoughtfully. There was something terribly unnerving about her large green eyes. They always seemed to know what he was thinking.

"I wanted to talk to you about Rowan," she said softly.

Remus grimaced. Of course – James was probably talking to Rowan about him at that very moment. They'd most likely planned this in advance. They were just too well-intentioned for their own good.

"What about her?" he asked dully. He knew he couldn't avoid this, but perhaps he could steer Lily away from it quickly.

"When are you going to get your act together and ask her take you back?" she asked pointedly. Her tone was mild, but he could hear a bite there. He flinched slightly. He really didn't want to anger the redhead – he wasn't afraid of many people, but an angry Lily was one of those few that made him cringe with fear.

"What makes you think I want that?" he asked. He gazed into his mug. He thought carefully about how to get out of this conversation.

Lily arched a graceful brow. "Really? Are you seriously going to play this game with me, Remus?" she asked smartly.

Remus sighed. He knew he was already doomed. There was no convincing Lily out of this.

"I don't know why you even want me to. All I've ever done is make her unhappy," he said bitterly.

"Don't be thick," Lily snapped.

Remus looked up at her, startled. Lily had never spoken so bluntly with him. The only person she spoke to like that was James usually, and sometimes Sirius when he was getting out of hand with his teasing.

"All Rowan's ever wanted is to be with you. The happiest I've ever seen her was when she was with you. Were _you_ not happy with _her?"_ she asked. Her tone melted softly at the end, eyes large and shining. Remus felt his face burn.

"Of course I was," he said sourly. He glared at his reflection in his mug. It was distorted and trembling in the brown liquid. "There is no greater happiness than being with her," he murmured.

"Then why are you doing this to yourself?" Lily asked plainly.

Remus stared at her long and hard, almost disbelievingly, before gathering himself. "I'm a werewolf," he said simply, bitterly.

"So what?" Lily asked, arching a brow.

Remus' entire face screwed up with confusion. "What do you mean, 'So what?'" he asked incredulously. "It's everything. I can't… How _can_ I be with her when I can't give her what she needs?" he said, slightly annoyed.

"What _does_ she need?" Lily countered quickly.

Remus stared at her disbelievingly. How could this conversation still be going?

"Tell me what Rowan needs that you can't give her in a relationship as opposed to whatever you are now because you're certainly not 'just friends,' despite whatever you say," Lily said defiantly. Her eyes were blazing. Her hair seemed to highlight the burning heat radiating off of her. Remus felt incredibly small.

"You're worried about putting her at risk," she continued fiercely. Remus felt as if a wave was sweeping him out to sea.

"That's not good enough of a reason to me," she declared. "Rowan's never cared about something as petty as reputation – her career choice proves that, so you can't argue there. As for making enemies, she's already an Order member, so she obviously doesn't care about that either. So really, give me another reason."

Remus felt like his ears might burn off. He felt like a small boy being scolded by his mother for stealing chocolate from the cupboard. He hadn't heard Lily's know-it-all voice ever directed at him, and it'd been quite some time since he'd heard it at all. Memories of her robotically rattling off answers for Professor Flitwick in Charms class came rushing back. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Well?" Lily demanded.

"I-I-" he stammered weakly, "I could hurt her. I could bite her mid-transformation." Lily snorted uncharacteristically.

"We all know what great lengths you go through to prevent that, so that's also void," Lily said fiercely. "You have your calendar memorized more than anyone else I know. Another."

Remus wanted to curl up and die. How had this happened? His hands seemed to be glued to his mug.

"I'm too poor," he said ashamedly. "My job is okay for now as a single man, but I won't be able to move up. I'll never be able to support her."

"Oh, come off it," she said bitingly. "Rowan's family has got enough gold to last her three lifetimes at least. And she's not exactly high maintenance – she's not expecting diamonds and designer clothes. That's not valid either."

Remus gaped openly at Lily now. He scoured his mind for another reason, something, anything!

"I can't-" he stammered with shame, "I can't give her children. What if… what if they're like me?" he whispered. His face burned. His stomach churned violently at the thought.

Lily's gaze softened, eyes shining with sadness. His entire body burned with embarrassment. That was the look he hated – why did she have to look at him like that? He didn't want pity. He just wanted to forget all of this.

"Have you even asked her if she cares about that?" Lily asked softly.

Remus' face continued to burn but he didn't respond. Lily's eyes welled up with what looked like tears. Remus' chest constricted with panic.

"How can you just leave her without even asking her what she wants first?" Lily asked. Her voice had taken on a shriller tone, eyes shining with unshed tears. Remus was sure he might implode with anxiety. Was he really so bad with women that he'd already pushed her to this point? How had she gone from Head Girl to hysterical in such a small amount of time? The panic increased.

"We've lost so many friends already!" she cried. "Edgar and Dorcas and Richard and now even Marlene!"

Remus was at a loss. Lily's eyes now leaked with wet tears, and he had no idea what to do. How had this conversation turned from Rowan to the war so quickly? He knew he should console her, but he was frozen to his seat, horrified and afraid.

"Everyday is precious," Lily whispered, wiping her tears away with cheeks flaming red. "How can you spend another minute away from her knowing that each day could be our last? She almost d-died the other night!" Her voice hiccuped slightly.

Remus' blood ran with ice. He'd refused to think of Rowan's risks in the war in that way for a long time, knowing the dark voices that followed. He thought of Rowan's face smeared with blood, the blank look in her eyes as he'd pulled her down the dark streets of London. What if Rosier hadn't taken Bellatrix's dagger? Would Rowan's body be lying next to Marlene's somewhere in a cold Ministry morgue? His entire body shook as his chest constricted painfully. He forced the thought away.

Lily reached across the table to grasp his hand tightly. Her eyes shined fiercely. Her lips trembled. He felt his throat clench tightly.

"You need to tell her how much you love her!" Lily said ardently, shaking his hand lightly but firmly. "You have to give her a chance! Would you be able to live with yourself if something happened to her and you never said anything? What if she were to finally move on and have that family with someone else because you were too afraid? Could you really accept that?"

Remus was overcome. The dark voice within him was roaring at the thought of anyone else touching her. He thought of Barty Crouch wrapping his arms around Rowan, her smiling up at the younger man with that bright light she used to reserve solely for him. He wanted to tear every limb from Barty's body. He wanted to take her until they both forgot there was anyone else in the world besides the two of them. His blood boiled, fire searing through his chest.

A jingling at the door snapped him from his dark stupor, and James was moving through the doorway looking tired but pleased. He grinned at Remus and his wife but then his face fell at the sight of the shadows on both of their faces.

"What's going on?" he asked carefully, moving towards the table.

"We were just catching up," she said nonchalantly, discreetly wiping the tears from her eyes. Remus looked at her, startled, but she just smiled at him reassuringly. Her gaze was surprisingly warm. "It'd been a while since just the two of us had a chance to talk. And since you were with Winnie, I thought it'd be nice to have some company while you were out." She got up and moved to the kitchen sink. He had a feeling she was trying to gather herself.

James didn't seem to believe her, but he kept his doubts to himself.

"Right," he said slowly.

Remus kept his gaze downward. James had always had a strange way of reading his mind, particularly where Rowan was concerned, and he didn't want to give him any opportunity to jump in where Lily had left off – James was fiercely protective of his childhood friend, and he had the feeling he'd come away with a few bruises if the other man started on the subject of his relationship with Rowan.

"I should get going. It's getting late," Remus said, standing from the table.

"What? But I just got home!" James whined. Remus laughed genuinely. It felt strange but relieving.

"Sorry, mate. Work tomorrow and all," he said, taking his cup to the kitchen counter. Lily took it from him gently and smiled warmly at him. Her eyes still glistened with tears, but she raised her chin to him confidently. He couldn't help but smile back. He suddenly felt very lucky to have Lily and James in his life.

As he moved to the door, James followed him. He put a firm hand on his shoulder before he reached for the doorknob.

"You should talk to Rowan, Moony," he said quietly, but firmly. "There's a lot you two need to discuss." He caught Remus' gaze with a hard look, and Remus' throat tightened again. He nodded solemnly.

"I will," he promised.

James smiled thinly and clapped his shoulder before opening the door for him. They said their goodbyes, and Remus stepped out into the night. He looked up at the sky – no moon tonight. He thought of Rowan's dark hair and the way her eyes would turn up towards the sky – had she picked up the habit from him? He wanted to see her desperately.

He Disapparated on the spot for his flat. He couldn't bear to face the sky.


	36. Of Taking a Step in One Direction

**A/N**: Close to something big?

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 36: Of Taking a Step in One Direction**

Barty Crouch Sr.'s office was a rich array of deep ebony wood furniture and the smell of polish. While Rowan's father's office had been a display of pride and power – bedecked in deep scarlet and rich leather – Crouch's was minimalistic, full of sleek surfaces and hard angles. Even his belongings seemed to express a harsh disdain for frivolity. Rowan felt even more uncomfortable in her already stiff dress robes than before.

He invited her in civilly with his mouth in a tight line, and she noted that, despite being in his own space, he was even more on edge than he'd been when they'd spoken at Delacroix Manor. She wondered how anyone could submit himself to so much tension even in his personal space.

"So what brings you here, Ms. Delacroix?" he asked brusquely. "I have an appointment in about fifteen minutes, so if you don't mind, I'd like to make this brief." Rowan felt a familiar twinge of annoyance but pushed it aside.

"I've heard that Karkaroff is talking," she said simply, eyeing him carefully.

Karkaroff had undoubtedly heard the news of the intense blow to the Death Eater forces, and he was a bottom-feeder if there ever was one – Kingsley had informed Rowan that Karkaroff had begun giving names, clearly betting on the Ministry's side against his old allies. It made Rowan sick with disgust. She wanted to tear the man's throat out.

He nodded. "Yes, he's listed several names, including his accomplice in your master's murder – Evan Rosier. Coincidentally, he was found dead in Wigtown the other night," he said smugly.

Rowan nodded and hid the scowl from her face – this man was insufferable. She wanted more than anything at that moment to tell him that _she_ had been the one to kill him. That would wipe that damned smirk from his face.

"Will you be offering him a bargain?" she asked. She gazed at him with a hard look.

His face darkened slightly at her bluntness. "Yes, we will probably offer him a lighter sentence for his cooperation," he said, staring her down.

Rowan felt the fire flare from her chest up her neck. She knew she was probably turning red in the face and fought to keep her temper under control.

"But Evan Rosier is dead," she said bristling. "What good does the name of a dead man do anyone?" Her blood was boiling.

"He's given some more names, ones that are more useful," he said smartly. "I'm afraid I can't discuss them with you at this time, but we will release them soon enough after the arrests have been made."

She glowered and held his gaze. The air was heavy in her lungs.

"Does your son know about all of this?" she asked lowly. His eyebrows furrowed, and his gaze darkened slightly.

"He is aware," he answered simply. She felt the understanding between them.

"I see," she said. She stood from her chair and glowered. "I'm afraid that I have no further business with you then, Mr. Crouch. I'll see myself out and let you continue on with your day."

He stared hard at her, assessing her carefully before speaking. "I was just telling my son how unfortunate it is that you never sought a position at the Ministry. I would have liked having someone like you in my department," he said. He eyed her carefully. "A witch of your credentials and pedigree would be highly sought after. I think you'd climb your way up the ranks as fast as your father did. You'd certainly have great influence over policies made here."

Rowan's conversation with Barty Jr. from the week before suddenly sprang to mind. The dark expression he'd worn was so similar to his father's, and she finally understood how right Mina was – they were very much alike. She realized that she had forgotten to mention her anxieties with the Order about the younger Crouch but knew with great relief that it wouldn't be a concern for her much longer.

She eyed him carefully with slight disdain. The underlying offer in his words boiled a lingering anger in her chest.

"Thank you, but I must say that the idea of working for the Ministry is entirely unappealing. I don't negotiate with murderers," she said haughtily. He leaned back in his chair as if impressed, though she wasn't sure of what since it clearly wasn't her morals. What a strange man.

"Good day, Mr. Crouch," she said, turning and walking out of his office.

"Good day, Ms. Delacroix," he called after her.

* * *

Rowan made a stop at Barty Jr.'s office next. It was smaller and wasn't of the same cold minimalism that his father's had been, but it was still quite stark. She thought it looked very much like a bachelor's space. He seemed extremely surprised but pleased to see her there.

"Rowan!" he greeted happily. "Please come in! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked. He leaned against the edge of his desk casually as she sat in the chair in front of his desk. She felt uncomfortable being at a lower vantage point for some reason.

"I just met with your father and thought I'd swing by on my way out," she said casually. She was nervous, guilty for some reason, though she couldn't be sure why. Their arrangement had been purely platonic, after all – she had every right to this decision.

"I see," he said cautiously. "I suppose you've heard about Karkaroff then." His expression was darker than she'd seen in a while. The anger she'd seen flicker in the quiet moments was there again. She felt even more uncomfortable.

"Yes," she said bitterly. "He made it quite clear that he'll be making a bargain with him." The heat flared in her chest again.

Barty assessed her quietly for a moment before speaking again. "I suppose there's no need to continue our act then, is there?" he asked carefully.

Her throat tightened momentarily, but as she opened her mouth to begin apologizing, he spoke again.

"Would you consider making it more… official?" he asked.

Rowan felt her heart stop for a moment. She looked at him searchingly. He was gazing at her earnestly, the fire still in his eyes. Was there a sense of desperation there? Longing? She couldn't read it. She'd never seen him look at her that way before, but it wasn't anything like the hungry look that Remus gave her. It made her uneasy.

"Despite our agreement, I've enjoyed getting to know you over the past few months. I think you're brilliant and engaging, and I could see us being together for a long time," he said earnestly. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. His hands were warm, and she suddenly felt uncomfortably hot.

"I know I'm not Lupin, but I can be twice the man he was for you. Be with me," he said heatedly. His gaze burned through her.

Rowan looked at him, feeling lost and overwhelmed. How had this happened? His thumb ran over her knuckles in a slow, scalding line. She was thankful that she'd finally healed her hands before coming. She wanted to scrub her skin off.

Barty was everything she should want – intelligent, kind, and handsome. He checked off everything on her father's list in terms of connections and blood status, and if things were to continue smoothly, she'd probably lead a very affluent life with him. And really, hadn't she been coming to terms with the idea of marrying comfortably, even if it were without love?

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. Her chest filled with shame as she thought of her father, but she knew her decision even without thinking. "I really like you, Barty, and I've enjoyed all the time we've spent together." She supposed it was half-true – most of their dates had been fun until the last. "But I can't see us as anything more than friends. I'd like to stay that way if you're willing, but I'm afraid I can't be with you in the way that you're asking." His expression was unreadable. "I'm really sorry," she added again, rather pathetically.

He held her hands, completely still, but the intensity in his gaze deepened. A chill settled into her bones, and she suddenly wanted to get away from him. His features didn't contort, didn't tense, but there was something there that was dark and violent, and she desperately wanted to leave, to put distance between them.

"I see," he said quietly. His eyes burned into her. "Is there really nothing I can do to convince you?" His hands tightened around hers slowly. She thought of a snake slowly wrapping around a victim. She imagined them clenching around her throat.

"No," she answered. She hoped that the fear she felt wasn't evident in her voice.

Barty assessed her for another moment quietly. She held his gaze firmly, determined not to lose to him, though she wasn't sure for what they were competing. Finally after what seemed like a short eternity, he released her hands and stood silently, staring down at her, suddenly very cold.

But then his expression was that of a different man. It was kind, gentle even. Every part of her was lost. There's no way she could have imagined it.

"Well, I guess it was always a losing battle for me, eh?" he said jovially. He smiled. Her stomach lurched.

"I'd also like to remain friends," he said warmly. "I hope that we can still go out, platonically of course. I think I'll miss having you around otherwise." He smiled at her, and she forced a smile back automatically. She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of this man or the one she'd just seen.

"Yeah, of course," she said casually. "We should still hang out when you're free." She hoped that she sounded sincere.

"Yeah," he said smiling. "Sounds good."

* * *

Lyall Lupin and his son Remus sat in their old home's living room after a quiet dinner that evening. Remus had been making it a priority to spend more time with his father over the past few months. Lyall had lost a bit of weight since Leanna's passing, so Remus occasionally paid him visits and cooked elaborate meals for him, insisting that he eat more. He mused that he sounded very much like his mother. Lyall found it all very amusing and humored his son as well as he could.

It was still insufferably humid as the last days of August died down. Remus' clothes clung to his skin, which in turn seemed to stick uncomfortably to his bones. He felt like he was in constant need of a shower, and it only added to his general level of discomfort.

_Would you be able to live with yourself if something happened to her and you never said anything?_

Lily's question still echoed in his head deafeningly from the night before. The thought had occurred to him countless times, but for months he'd kept it from his mind, silenced the dark voices that had whispered such terrible fears. He'd told himself that he'd be able to prevent any harm from coming to her, but the mission in Wigtown had proved otherwise. She'd been covered in blood, a mess of rage and terror. For a moment, he hadn't even been able to recognize her. He'd never seen such wrath in her, hadn't even known she was capable of it.

The truth was that even before speaking to Lily, the question of what he wanted from Rowan had been heavy on his mind. He'd left Rowan's flat with her still asleep days before because he couldn't think clearly with her so close. His nose had been filled with her familiar scent, her skin so warm against his. He didn't know how long he'd laid there admiring the delicate curve of her cheek, the troubled line of her mouth. He could stare at her for hours without thinking about anything. It terrified him how weak she still made him. He didn't understand how someone so small could render him so useless.

But she wasn't small, he countered mentally. Something howled distantly in him. That night, her fire had roared burning and blinding. He wanted to protect her, to be afraid for her, but he couldn't. That distant voice responded to her darkness overwhelmingly. A part of him wanted to pull it from her again, test his own against it. It both thrilled and terrified him.

He'd been prepared to walk her home that night again after the Order meeting dumbly without knowing what to say to her. Even without her near, the dark presence in his gut had roared so deafeningly that all of his thoughts regarding her had been drowned out for days. He just wanted to be close, to feel that resonation between them. He wanted to tear apart anyone who dared come near her. He'd nearly fought James when he'd insisted he take her home instead. She hadn't looked at him as she'd left, and he'd wanted nothing more than to grab her and make her face him, to tell her how very sorry he was for leaving her that morning.

And now, after speaking to Lily and thinking it over another day, he wasn't any closer to knowing what to do. No, he knew what he should do – what he was _going_ to do. He just hadn't accepted it yet.

"How are your friends doing?" Lyall asked suddenly, breaking Remus from his dark thoughts. He looked up jerkily at his father, who was still reading _The Daily Prophet_. It almost seemed as if he hadn't spoken at all.

"They're fine," Remus said stiffly. He still didn't feel as comfortable discussing his friends with his father as he had with his mother. Lyall had grown to love the Marauders and their respective girlfriends over the years, but Remus' condition had always presented a dark shadow. He felt rather defeated at it – if they couldn't convince his father that he could find genuine friendships despite his condition, then no one would.

Lyall nodded vaguely. He turned a page of his newspaper. "I heard about the Death Eater massacre in Wigtown a few days ago. They say the one who murdered Belby was found dead," he said carefully. He glanced towards Remus pointedly, and Remus felt his chest tighten. "Is Rowan okay?"

Remus had to suppress a grimace. "Yeah, she's all right… a little shaken, but all right," he said quietly.

Lyall nodded again. "I imagine she'd be quite angry," he said knowingly. Remus almost wanted to laugh - could there be a greater understatement? Images of her fury filled his mind, of her limbs thrashing wildly at the collapsed Death Eater's body. He felt something tearing at him from inside with a muffled, righteous roar.

"I heard from some coworkers that he was beaten quite badly when they found him. Someone must have held a grudge," Lyall continued.

Remus eyed his father warily. Damn his Ministry connections. He often forgot how quickly information spread through the Ministry, even across departments. It was growing more and more difficult to keep news of the Order's movements from his father. He knew about his involvement, but he didn't need to worry Lyall any further than he already did.

"You two have been broken up for nearly a year now," he said quietly.

Remus felt a cold trickle run down his back. Had it really almost been a year? Yes, it had nearly been a year since his mother had passed as well. It had been particularly long. Time moves slowly without the people one loves most.

"Don't you think it's time you asked her to take you back?" Lyall asked bluntly.

Remus gaped at his father, who acted so casually, like he'd just asked Remus if he'd like a cup of tea. Was everyone in his life conspiring together to push him to be with Rowan?

"But you've never approved of me having a relationship with anyone," he said a bit more bitterly than he'd intended.

Lyall sighed and lowered his paper. He took off his glasses, pushing them up onto his forehead, then rubbed his eyes tiredly. He suddenly looked very old. A small twinge of fear rang through Remus' chest.

"I used to think that," his father admitted. "But Rowan proved to me a long time ago that if there's an exception to any rule, she's the exception to all of yours." He looked up at Remus and smiled thinly.

Remus' hands tightened.

"Don't you think it's what your mother would've wanted as well?" Lyall asked.

Remus' chest clenched painfully at the thought of his mother.

"Mum would've wanted me to be with anyone who accepted my condition. It wasn't exclusive to Rowan," he said lowly. He pushed the image of his mother's face from his mind. It was too bright, too painful.

"Your mum was a bit of an airhead, but she was no fool. She knew Rowan was special," Lyall said fondly. He smiled gently at the thought of his wife. "You should've seen the way her face would light up whenever Rowan's owl showed up here. It was quite amusing, really – like she was some teenager getting love letters."

Remus looked at his father with confusion. Lyall seemed to read his face.

"You didn't know?" he asked cheekily. Remus glared at his father, who smirked at him. "Oh yes, your mum started writing to her while you were still in school. I think it was your last summer… You were going through that angsty phase of yours – Rowan was much more forthcoming than you were with explanations," he said smartly.

Remus felt his ears burn. Memories of his mother hugging Rowan fiercely at Platform 9¾ flashed in his mind – it suddenly made much more sense. He marveled at how he could have never noticed. Half of him was impressed at his mother's sneakiness, though another was quite angry at the thought.

"So what if Mum loved her?" Remus asked sourly. He didn't want to think of the two most precious women in his life. He didn't want to think of Leanna. "That doesn't solve anything for me."

"Do _you_ love her?" Lyall asked simply.

Remus' brows furrowed. "Of course I do," he answered plainly.

"Well then, there you go," Lyall declared.

Remus' brows furrowed deeper, and Lyall sighed in exasperation.

"Why does anything else matter? If you love her, then why can't you be with her? What's stopping you?"

Remus thought his skull might implode. Lyall Lupin – his analytical, anxious, serious father – was telling him to throw all reason to the wind and follow his heart. Into what strange alternate reality had he fallen?

"Stop making that face. I know that face," he said, scolding Remus. "But I mean it. Really – can you afford to waste time away from her? What if it hadn't been that poor McKinnon girl who died? What if the next is Rowan?"

Remus' stomach churned at the thought. His face darkened.

"Lily said the same thing last night," he said quietly.

Lyall hummed in approval. "Smart girl, that one," he said. "Maybe you should listen to her."

Remus gaped at his father disbelievingly. He still couldn't understand how all of his conversations recently seemed to revolve around Rowan.

"You used to be so uncomfortable at the idea of me being with anyone," Remus said suspiciously. "Am I to really believe that Rowan has somehow changed all of that?"

Lyall assessed him carefully. Remus forced himself to not shift uneasily under his father's gaze.

"Sometimes when the universe keeps pushing us in one direction, that's where we need to go," his father said cryptically over his paper.

Remus considered the words slowly, letting them drip over his heart. Perhaps. Perhaps he would think about it more. Perhaps the universe just needed to give him one more push.


	37. Of the Dark Ties Between Us

**A/N**: RIP RAB.

**dearmaggie:** Once again, I cannot thank you enough for your kind words. It really means a lot to me whenever I get one of your reviews - they're incredibly thoughtful, and it's really gratifying when someone values the details I place in the story because I definitely put a lot of thought into them.

I'm also really pleased that you've picked up on the Order members' relationships because the dynamic between comrades in arms is very compelling to me. I've been considering it a lot recently, especially as I plan the final story in the series. I'm glad that you find it interesting because there are a few chapters in the near future that focus a little more on the Order, particularly the Weasleys.

Anyway, thank you so much as always for reading and for taking the time to write me a review! I really appreciate it!

**missalex3030:** Haaaaa you're going to be so mad at me! XD

**S38:** Hahaha no shagging yet! But thank you! I really love Barty's character in a weird way. He's a lot of fun to write, so I'm glad he's compelling as a villain. Thank you so much as always!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Thank you as always! I definitely agree that Rowan will need some explanations and convincing ;]

**snuffles95:** Thank you thank you! Please enjoy!

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 37: Of the Dark Ties Between Us**

Late the next night – close to dawn – Rowan entered the kitchen of the Order headquarters to find Sirius sitting alone at the table. She had just gotten back from a late night patrol with Arthur around Knockturn Alley where there had been rumors of Death Eater activity, but they'd turned up nothing. She'd insisted that Arthur go home to his family and that she'd send a report to Dumbledore for them. She hadn't expected to see anyone else there, however.

The young man sat with his face buried in his hands, shoulders hunched and trembling slightly. A piece of crumpled parchment and a torn open envelope lay on the table next to his arm. She saw a broken wax seal of dark green on the envelope – the Black family coat of arms. The very sight sent a cold shiver of fear through her – she hadn't seen Sirius with anything pertaining to his family in many years. Everything about the scene felt wrong.

"Sirius?" she called quietly.

His head jerked up to see her at the doorway with wide surprised eyes. She was relieved that there were no tears on his face, but the lines were much deeper than she'd ever seen. His usually handsome features were heavy with shadows. It was eerie – disturbing.

"I didn't think anyone would be here this late," he said quietly.

"Patrol report," she explained. He nodded almost imperceptibly. She eyed him ruefully. "I can leave if you need some time alone."

Sirius didn't respond. He kept his hands on the table stretched out in front of him, gaze facing downward. He seemed be concentrating greatly on controlling his breathing, which was ragged and strained. She could see his back tremble with effort. The uneven thrum of his breath reverberated through her chest. She stood in the doorway, thinking desperately of what she should do. Sirius wasn't the kind of man to want company with his dark thoughts - she could count on two hands the number of times she'd seen him truly upset in all the years she'd known him. Just as she was about to make her way back to the door, he spoke.

"My brother is dead," he said quietly.

Rowan felt her blood run cold with ice. Her mouth trembled.

"Oh, god," she breathed. "Sirius, I'm so sorry," she said sadly. Her eyes stung with sympathy. She deliberated what to do once again before deciding to stay. She sat down next to him cautiously, but he made no move to push her away. She didn't touch him, just let her presence be known. He didn't look up her.

"How… Do you know what happened?" she asked carefully.

Sirius shook his head slowly but answered, "Voldemort… Killed," he said simply. "Got scared… Couldn't get out." His form seemed to shrink. "There's nothing left of him apparently."

Rowan let the words wash over her slowly. They left so many more questions in their wake, but she couldn't make sense of any of them. Regulus was – had been – a couple of years younger. The two brothers had never gotten on – Regulus had been a Slytherin and a notorious one at that. He'd run with the darker crowd while in school, and it'd been common knowledge at Hogwarts how much the two disliked each other.

But Rowan knew, at the bottom of it all, that Sirius ached for his brother's love, just as he had for his parents', perhaps even more so. He rarely spoke of his family, and when he did, it was usually with disdain, but when he'd moved into the Potters' home, he'd been quietly devastated. She and James had spent several days after trying to distract their friend from his dark thoughts with fun excursions and activities, and he'd been thankful.

But there was no distracting Sirius from this. So many years lost, a relationship undeveloped because of something so petty as blood feuds – it seemed too cruel. Her heart ached painfully for her friend. She felt a sour bitterness spread through her as she thought of his parents – what a terrible thing it is to turn one's sons against each other. She'd never felt so much hatred towards them.

"I don't know why I'm so upset. It's not like I even liked him," Sirius said bitterly.

Rowan watched him carefully, throat tightening. She wanted to reach out to him but didn't know how. She'd never had a sibling – James was the closest thing she had to a brother – and her parents had always doted on her, even if they'd had their problems. She couldn't claim to empathize.

"He's still your brother," she said sadly. He held her gaze from the corner of his eye warily. The lines in his face seemed so out of place. He should be smiling, always.

"No matter how terrible our families are, how much we want to hate them for whatever reason, they're still family. And you still loved him," she said fervently. Sirius' mouth tightened and twisted.

"You're not just grieving his death – you're grieving for what you lost, what you never got the chance to have with him. And that's okay," she said. "It's okay to love him."

Sirius held her gaze, and she had to push her own sorrow away. His lips trembled minutely – she nearly missed it – before he turned away from her again and looked back down at the table. His shoulders didn't tremble again, but she saw a steady flow of tears drip from his face down onto the wooden surface where they began to pool quietly. She looked away and stared up at the ceiling, allowing him a moment of silence.

They sat together quietly for a while – she didn't know how long. When he finally sat up again, his eyes were dry, though red, and his mouth had taken on a determined line. She watched him carefully from the corner of her eye. Finally, he turned towards her.

"Thanks, Row," he whispered.

She smiled softly and leaned against him reassuringly. She knocked her head against his playfully, and she heard him release a small breath.

"You should get home. I'm sure Mina's worrying about you," she said.

The corner of his mouth twitched in response, and he took a few deep breaths before rising slowly from his seat, picking up the open letter with uncharacteristically gentle hands. She stood with him.

"Do you have someone to walk you home?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

She smiled. "I'll be fine," she said reassuringly. "I still have to send a report to Dumbledore anyway."

Sirius frowned. "Moony wouldn't like that," he said.

Rowan scowled, which made Sirius smirk. A part of her felt slightly relieved at the sight.

"I don't give a shit what he thinks. Go home," she said defiantly.

He snorted. "Fine, but be careful, okay?" he said.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," she said chidingly as she reached for a piece of parchment. "Now shove off. Your ugly face is putting me in a bad mood."

Sirius scowled and mussed up her hair roughly. She groaned and pushed him off ungracefully. He let out a laughing bark.

"Now, who's ugly?" he teased. She punched him in the arm, and he squealed, hopping for the door. When he reached it, he turned back, smiling warmly.

"Hey, Rowan?" he called.

"What?" she asked exasperatedly, turning back from the parchment.

"Thanks," he said simply. She smiled.

"Anytime, mate," she said.

* * *

A yellow-haired man shrieked in pain as a flash of red light seized him. He writhed and shook wildly on the cold floor of a dark hall, surrounded by a small group of dark-robed figures who each cowered in fear at every jerk and quiver of their colleague's body. A dark-haired woman floated above them, her body twisting and turning slowly in a dull fog of blue light. Their pale-faced master roared in anger over the screaming man. It shook the very walls of the room.

Finally, the red light subsided, and the young man moaned in pain, trembling against the stone floor. A thin film of sweat stuck to his face with hair clinging to his skin. He curled up and rocked slowly, groaning and whimpering in his agony. The room echoed with the sound.

"What is wrong with young people these days?" the Dark Lord asked the room. His arms gestured dramatically around him. His servants trembled as his mouth stretched maniacally yellow. "No sense of obligation or responsibility! _No vigilance!"_

He shot another flare from his wand at the young man at his feet, who screamed. His back arched up from the ground in agony, writhing and seizing. His master pulled his wand away, and the light disappeared again.

"Have we come to an understanding yet, my boy?" the pale wizard asked softly. "It would be a great pity for you to just… _disappear_ like your old schoolmate Black." The young man whimpered vaguely in response. His master sneered.

"You were given a place in this circle because you showed great promise. Was I wrong to assume that?" he asked softly.

"N-no, my Lord," the young man gasped. His frame continued to tremble. His face twitched slightly, muscles spasming uncontrollably.

"Then you will follow through with what you have promised me!" the Dark Lord hissed. "What use is that comfortable position of yours at the Ministry if I cannot make use of it? Can you not handle that dim father, boy?"

He twirled his wand between long, thin fingers. Barty mumbled incoherently against the stone floor.

"You also swore a way into the Order with this little charade of yours with the Delacroix girl, did you not? Have you grown soft or are you just incompetent?"

"I can still give you Delacroix!" the young man blurted desperately. A few derisive snorts could be heard from his peers. "I can! I can get you James Potter a-and Black and Longbottom and even the werewolf Lupin! With more time, I-"

"With more time, _I_ could just do it myself," the dark wizard spat.

"I swear, please," the young man whispered desperately. "Just give me more time. I swear I can-"

"My Lord," a drawling voice called over the silence. The congregation turned towards a dark-haired wizard with a large, hooked noise and sallow skin. He stood very poised and straight. His lip curled almost sneeringly at the cowering man in front of him. "Might I make a suggestion for our dear friend?"

The Dark Lord's face contorted amusedly. "Please, Severus," he invited teasingly. "Share with us your thoughts."

"Perhaps he is approaching Ms. Delacroix the wrong way. Perhaps…" he paused. He eyed the younger man on the floor disdainfully. "… a more_ assertive _strategy would be more appropriate." He sneered. "I think Mr. Wormtail could also be of use to him. Perhaps young Master Crouch could collaborate with Miss, uh… _Eripice._"

Silence fell upon the hall again. The pale wizard gazed at the oily-haired man thoughtfully, thin lips still twitching with amusement. Barty's form still trembled.

"Yes," he finally said. His high voice echoed throughout the darkness. "Yes, I think that sounds quite right."

"Barty… _dear child_," he breathed mockingly. The young man froze stiffly with eyes locked upon his master's feet. "I will give you one month. _One month_ and I expect to see results in either the form that girl and her friends at my feet or the silence of those traitors in your father's care… or your place at this circle will be terminated."

Barty scrambled to his hands and knees and bowed prostrate before his master.

"Yes, my Lord! Of course! Thank you!" he sputtered gratefully. And with a wave of his master's hand, he struggled away from the center of the congregation.

The pale wizard then turned his gaze upward at the dark-haired woman floating above. She was silent but still rolling jerkily. He held a thoughtful expression.

"Bellatrix," he called.

The dark head of a tall witch jerked upward with wide eyes. She, her husband, and brother-in-law cowered to the side, all looking gaunt with cuts and bruises across their faces – Barty Crouch had not been the only one to suffer their master's wrath that night.

"Yes, my Lord?" she whispered. Despite the freshness of her punishments, her gaze burned into him with fiery adoration. Her chin jutted forward eagerly, swollen lip trembling. She could barely contain her excitement.

"I think Severus is right – our friend Wormtail could be of assistance to young Mr. Crouch," he said. He kept his gaze upward. The floating woman's skin glowed pale and sickly in the dim light. Her head lolled unnaturally. She emitted a low groan.

"My Lord," Bellatrix whispered reverently, "do you wish me to bring him to you now?"

"Yes," the dark wizard mused. "Yes, now would be an excellent time." With a flick of his wand, the floating form above fell in a mass of dark hair and tattered robes to the cold floor with a sickening thud. She cried out and writhed in pain.

"Please!" she sobbed.

Bellatrix scrambled to her feet and stalked over to the woman where she slowly, predatorily, crouched down and ran a hand through the woman's thick hair. She jerked and cried out, trying desperately to roll away from the witch's touch but could barely move. She whimpered, tears spilling onto the floor.

The dark witch gently took a lock of her hair, letting the individual strands run over her fingers until just one remained. She fingered it idly, gazing at it almost lovingly.

Then she tore it out of the writhing woman's head at the root. She yelped in shock and jerked away, pulling herself desperately with scrambling hands trying to find purchase on the smooth surface. She sobbed on her side, tears leaking out onto the polished dark stones of the floor. The other wizards and witches watched her coldly and silently.

"Let me go!" she wailed. Her body shook violently with her sobs, though neither the Death Eaters nor their master seemed to notice. She mumbled and sobbed in a foreign language, a staccato fluttering of fast words. They spilled like tears from her mouth.

"Bellatrix," the pale wizard called again. The dark-haired witch turned back towards her master quickly with eager eyes.

"Your family has already disappointed me greatly this week," he said softly. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange trembled, knees still pressed into the floor with eyes cast downward. "Make sure it doesn't happen again," he said. Her eyes shone with fierce adoration. She nodded eagerly.

"I will be back soon, my Lord," she said breathily, as if she were speaking to a lover.

As she sauntered from the dark hall, she grabbed a crystal goblet, dipping it into a bubbling cauldron of a thick, muddy brown potion that sat on a table by the wall. She carefully placed the long dark hair into it, and the potion turned to a bright, clear red, the color of sunset. She drank it down with relish, gasping with satisfaction at the bottom of the glass before tossing it carelessly onto the table, where it landed with a dull thud and rolled haphazardly. She strolled into the light of the hallway.

As she moved through the long hall, robes billowing in the light from the high windows, her heavy-lidded eyes widened and pulled upward at the corners. Light seemed to seep into their dark depths. They molted into a warm amber against pink cheeks. Her strong jaw melted into a delicate angle, and her thin lips swelled full and red. Her wild hair straightened out into billowing waves, and her tall form shrank down a few inches. Her dark robes hung from her frame luxuriously.

The lips curled into a smile, and as she set out into the hot August evening sun, she thought of the small, round form of Peter Pettigrew.

_I hope you're ready for me_,_ Wormtail,_ she thought gleefully, and with a pop, she Disapparated for London.


	38. Of the Burdens of Silent Protectors

**A/N**: Totally unrelated to the very serious chapter coming up, but something I've noticed and find very amusing is that the chapters that receive the most hits tend to be the ones with the dirtiest, raunchiest action. Y'all are a bunch of perverts.

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 38: Of the Burdens of Silent Protectors**

Peter Pettigrew sat in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron with his eyes darting rapidly around various points in the room without direction. He tried desperately to hold the pint of butterbeer in his hands without spilling, but he hadn't been able to stop trembling for what seemed like days. Small spurts of the golden liquid dribbled from the mouth of the glass twitchily. His ears roared deafeningly, jumping from conversation to conversation within the pub, listening hard but not sure for exactly what. Each voice sounded higher than it should. Each laugh sounded like a cackle. Cold shivers ran up his spine in defiance of the heat.

The air was insufferably heavy with humidity – it seemed like it hadn't rained in months. There was a forecast for rain finally the next day, and Peter thought he might cry with relief at the very thought. He wore a jumper over his shirt to ensure that no stains seeped through, but the heat that built between the layers was excruciating. The jumper felt like a lead weight, and his shirt clung stickily to his back, with the salty sweat on his skin seeping into the deep gashes that were engraved into his back with mind-numbing stinging. He prayed desperately that the wounds wouldn't reopen while he was out, wiping the heavy sweat from his brow shakily.

Finally, he saw a tall young man with light brown hair step in from the late August heat. The long scar along his jaw was obvious even at the distance as he looked around the pub. His eyes finally fell upon Peter fondly, and a small smile spread across his lips as he moved towards his table. Peter smiled weakly with his chest painfully tight as he approached with a small but shaky wave. The small movement tugged at the cuts in his back – his hand shot back down to his lap. The sweat seemed to drip faster, and he cursed at himself silently, though he couldn't be sure for what anymore. Once again, he was shamefully weak, gazing up after the bright light of a star he couldn't reach.

* * *

As Remus approached the back table of the Leaky Cauldron that Peter sat at, the warmth he felt at seeing his friend quickly melted into deep concern. Peter looked pale – even more so than usual – with deep rings beneath his eyes. He looked somewhat thinner even. His hair was matted with sweat, which was dripping off of him profusely. He sat rigidly with an unnaturally straight back and trembling hands. Was it the heat? He had no idea how Peter could possibly be wearing a jumper – Remus was wearing the thinnest work-appropriate clothes he owned, and he still felt constantly sticky with sweat and humidity. Something in his stomach turned slightly at the sight of his fellow Marauder.

"Wormy," he greeted warmly, but with concern, as he sat down, "You okay, mate?"

"Yeah!" Peter squeaked, his voice very shrill and unnaturally high. He seemed to catch how bizarre he sounded and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, a little more normally this time. "You know, just a little put off from the heat!"

Peter's eyes were wide, darting around nervously. He looked even more rat-like than usual. It had been a long time since he'd seen him this jumpy, and he'd recently taken on a more confident stance, which he'd attributed to the man's relationship with Eris. He still didn't feel comfortable with the treasure hunter, but he was quite glad for her seemingly positive influence on his friend.

However, the changes now all seemed to have been reversed. Peter seemed to shrink into his seat, peering around them with slight panic. Remus' concern deepened.

"Peter," he said again, this time more seriously. Peter's gaze jerked back to him. "Did something happen?" he asked in a low voice. His muscles all seemed to tighten. Something clearly wasn't right.

Peter held his gaze with trembling eyes and mouth. Remus could nearly hear the deafening barrage of thoughts pouring from Peter's mind as he mustered his courage to answer.

"How is Rowan?" he asked. His voice was still high, tempo slow, afraid. Remus frowned but tried not to let on how perturbed he was. He was too worried about Peter's strange behavior to even consider how painful it was to think of the dark-haired girl.

"She's okay I think," he said carefully. "I haven't seen her since our weekly. Why do you ask?"

Peter jerked strangely – a weird version of a shrug. "Just wondering!" he responded shrilly. He cursed at himself again – why couldn't he keep his composure just this once? "She just seemed s-so… so upset the other night. I just th-thought maybe you could cheer her up!" He let out a soft but high and nervous laugh that seemed very awkward and misplaced. Remus watched his friend with deep concern, but before he could say anything, Peter continued.

"You two should get back together!" he blurted.

Remus wanted to bury his face in his hands with frustration. Why was everyone in his life pushing him to talk about this all of the sudden? He was beginning to think that they'd all discussed it prior and were orchestrating their efforts in unison as a team.

"What is it with that lately?" he muttered to himself tiredly under his breath, running a hand through his hair. His neck felt slightly cooler after, but the tightness in his chest remained.

"Why do you say that?" he asked Peter.

Peter's mouth trembled, and his eyes deepened with fear. The strange tightness in his Remus' chest extended to his stomach. Something was very wrong.

"I j-just-," Peter stammered. His eyes couldn't seem to focus on anything in particular, darting around wildly again. His hands were absentmindedly wiping themselves against his pants at his thighs rhythmically like a strange ritual. The paleness of his face seemed to only grow, but he finally looked up at Remus, eyes blazing. Remus couldn't believe the fire there. He looked like a different man.

But before he could speak, a sultry voice interrupted them.

"Merlin, what a surprise to see you two here!"

Remus whipped around to see a pale heart-shaped face set against dark waves. A seductive set of full lips was spread into a smug smile directed at the two of them – it was Eris. The dark voice deep within him snarled for some reason that he couldn't explain. But the person next to her was what surprised Remus most – a young man in a fine, elegant suit with straw-colored hair. His wolf roared deafeningly at the sight of Barty Crouch Jr. He strained to keep the gut reaction from his face.

The young man smiled warmly at the two of them, showing no sign of noticing Remus' inner thrashing.

"Lupin, great to see you! Pettigrew," he greeted kindly, clapping Remus on the shoulder jovially and nodding to Peter. His eyes held only good intent, but Remus couldn't help but bristle inwardly. He forced a smile to his face.

"Good to see you, Barty. How have you been?" he asked politely. "Great job at the Ministry – you guys have been doing some fantastic work recently." He smirked to himself, knowing fully well that their "fantastic work" was in fact all thanks to the Order of the Phoenix.

Barty beamed. "Thanks, mate. It's been pretty busy with all the arrests, but we're really optimistic for some convictions. How've you been?"

"Oh, you know – same as usual," Remus answered vaguely. He didn't want to continue this conversation for any longer than necessary. He glanced towards Eris, who was watching their conversation earnestly. "How do you two know each other?" he asked.

Barty glanced over at her and smiled. "Oh, Ms. Eripice came across some rare goblin-made pieces my father has his eye on. We were just meeting to discuss them over lunch," he said.

Eris smiled broadly. "Yes, it's quite the coincidence that we ran into you two," she said. She then turned to Peter. "Sweetheart, I wish you'd told me you had lunch plans with Remus. We could have walked over together from work," Eris cooed. She trailed her hand through Peter's sweat-drenched hair with long nails scraping against his scalp slowly. He shuddered slightly as he imagined the sweat pooling beneath her nails. He thought of a black spider wrapping its long legs around a fly.

Her expression was warm, but Remus still felt incredibly uneasy. He turned back to see Peter. The round man was not shaking as much as before, but he was stone still, as if he'd been petrified. His eyes were wide; mouth slack in an expression of purely distilled fear. He barely breathed. Remus began to speak before he could stop himself.

"Actually, we were just finishing up," he said quickly, forcing himself not to glance back at Peter. He could feel his friend perk up and wanted to kick him. "Have to get back to work – busy day," he said.

Barty smiled. "Ah, that's too bad," he said disappointedly. "But yes, don't want to keep you! I hope we catch you sooner next time," he said. His eyes flickered with something indiscernible.

Remus forced a stiff smile. "Yeah, definitely."

* * *

Barty and his companion stared after the retreating forms with flashing eyes. The young man's mouth was set into a tight straight line while the woman's red lips curved into a broad grin that could only be described as excited. Her honey-colored eyes blazed with a spark. Even her posture held a visible charge, like a prowling spider ready to pounce.

"Oh, he is in trouble," she drawled. Her voice spoke lowly with great anticipation. It dripped with pleasure.

Her male companion, however, chewed his lip with slight concern. He stared after the door as he saw the taller man disappear behind it with a clenching heat in his stomach that he identified as anger. He wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for that damned werewolf – Rowan would be eating out of the palm of his hand by now if it weren't for him. He'd still be in his master's good graces – wouldn't be partnered with this psychotic bitch – if it weren't for Remus Lupin. He wanted nothing more than to carve his name into the Half-breed's back, just as he had with his sniveling rodent of a friend.

"Don't concern yourself over them, Crouch," cooed "_Eris."_ She leisurely sat down at the table that the two other men had abandoned moments before, taking a long swig from the pint that Peter had left behind with great relish. Her eyes danced with laughter. "We'll find little Squirmy Wormy later tonight and pull the conversation with the Half-breed out of him. No need to worry about it now." She rested her chin upon a long-fingered hand and smiled, broad and scarlet. "Besides, it's not like he can do much anyway, can he? There's never been a more useless man as poor, pathetic Peter."

Barty nodded vaguely, but the worry remained. True, Peter Pettigrew was quite possibly the most pitiful wizard in Britain, but he'd still gone against their orders to not contact his friends until they gave him permission. To see him with Lupin alone was worrying considering the man's relationship with Rowan. He still needed that girl as a gateway to the Order of the Phoenix, and if Lupin even considered going back to Rowan, he knew she'd be completely beyond his reach – Dumbledore and the Order would be beyond his reach.

He sat down with the anger still flaring in his chest. He hoped spitefully that Peter's back wounds hadn't closed yet – he would dig much deeper tonight. He would make sure that Peter Pettigrew never disobeyed him again.

* * *

Despite the excruciating heat, Peter felt his lungs expand with relief as Remus pulled him out of the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as they hit the sidewalk, the taller man grabbed his arm and began pulling him down the street and out of Diagon Alley. The fast movement tugged at the wounds in his back painfully, and he winced with each step. He wanted to vomit from the strain.

When they reached the I.C.E., Remus tugged Peter into the building, down long, winding hallways filled with men and women in long white lab coats and even a strange assortment of magical creatures. Eventually, he found himself in a small, white office filled with books and cages of what looked like kappas with bared teeth and tiny hands full of cucumbers. Remus sat him down in a seat and filled a glass of cold water, shoving it into his hands. The sudden chill shot through his bones. He felt quite lost.

"Here, drink this," Remus murmured before sitting down across from Peter. He looked at Peter with a hard look. He trembled again. "What the hell was all of that back there?" he asked. It was nearly a growl.

Peter felt his hands shake again, placing the glass on Remus' desk before he could spill it on anything important. He gripped his pants to try to still his hands, but to no avail. One of the kappas slapped its cucumber against the bars of the cage and snarled at him aggressively as if it knew just how weak he was. He felt even more pathetic.

"I-" he started, but couldn't continue. He thought of groomed straw-colored hair coming out of place with shaking fury, flashes of red light reflected in brown eyes. He thought of contorting faces, full, seductive lips thinning to cruel grins and shrieking laughter. His entire body shook and heat stung behind his eyes. His stomach seized painfully with sick nausea.

Remus watched him carefully with his mouth in a taut line. He hadn't felt so weak in several months. Why had things turned out this way? What had he done to deserve this kind of pain?

"Pete," Remus said softly, "Something is wrong with Eris, isn't it?" he asked lowly.

Peter jerked up. "No!" he blurted. His face burned with shame. He could feel her long fingers wrap around his neck, her wand carving curses into his back. Remus looked at him with furrowed brows, obviously disbelieving. "No, it's just that… that…" he stammered, mind groping for straws desperately.

"We had a row the other day!" he said quickly. He tightness in his chest slackened slightly with relief, but Remus' expression was still skeptical.

"I wasn't ready to see her yet, which is why I was so nervous earlier. I'll make up with her later though," he explained quickly. "Don't worry about it!" He laughed nervously and kicked himself for how hysterical he sounded. Remus obviously still didn't believe him.

"Peter," he started gravely. His gaze was dark. "If y-"

Sickly pale skin and red eyes flashed in his mind. His back burned.

"I'm fine, Remus!" he shot back suddenly. Remus jolted slightly at the sudden interjection with wide eyes. Peter kicked himself again. He'd never been so rude to Remus. Why couldn't he be more natural? He needed to change the subject _now_.

"You have to get back together with Rowan!" he blurted again.

Remus stared hard at Peter. He felt his face burn under his friend's intensity, but Remus didn't respond. He took the opportunity to push forward and take control of the conversation's direction. The gashes in his back stung bitterly.

_You will listen to me, Wormtail._

"You two belong together," Peter said shrilly. "She shouldn't be with Barty. She should be with you!" Remus' gazed still held, eyeing him warily. Something dark flickered in his gaze. Peter trembled. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, his jaw chattering and trembling, but he pushed forward.

"With the way things are going, you should be with the ones you love the most!" he argued. His mind was a cluster of chaos. He could barely hear his own thoughts, let alone express them. Rowan's face – the way her eyes burned for him so many months ago – glowed behind his eyes.

"Please, Remus," he begged shrilly. "She loves you! Don't you love her too? How can you stand to see her with someone else?" He felt his eyes sting hotly and tried desperately to blink the tears away. "She's been waiting and waiting for you, and yet you're going to keep pushing her away when there are so many reasons to be with her?"

His eyes bored into Remus, who continued to stare at him with a hard, indiscernible expression, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tight. He searched his face frantically for any sign that he comprehended his words.

_Please hear me_, he begged silently.

"How can you…" He felt the burning in his back spread down his limbs, into his lungs. He saw pale skin and red eyes. He heard high-pitched laughter resonate through his chest, into his stomach. Red light flashed behind the amber eyes that had been engraved into his heart. He wanted to cry.

"How can you be apart from her?" he breathed.

Everything in him seemed to drip away – the air, the fire in his blood, his heat, his blood; _everything._ The sound of shrill laughter bore down on him heavily, and he trembled beneath its weight. He thought of pale skin, smooth cold scales slithering around him, the feeling of his bones and skin twisting under the fire of a long-fingered, white hand.

He felt her slipping away, fading into the red light. Everything in him ached. If he couldn't do this… If he couldn't even save _her_, then for what had he endured all the agony? His mind screamed. _Please hear me._

"Okay," Remus said.

Peter's head jerked up to see Remus gazing at him, almost dejectedly. He didn't dare believe what he'd heard.

"You're right," Remus said quietly. He ran his hands through his hair slowly, fingers tugging at the brown and gray strands. "You're all right," Remus said to himself.

Peter wanted to throw himself at Remus' feet, kiss the ground he walked on, but he couldn't find his voice. His eyes burned, but he blinked away the tears, grateful that Remus' gaze remained downward. His chest felt like it could explode at any moment with gratitude. Remus would be there. He would be there for her! If Remus were there, she would be safe. He'd protect her. It didn't matter if he'd dirtied himself. It didn't matter if she never knew how much he wanted those bright gazes for himself. She would be safe.

"I just…" Remus started quietly. Peter watched him with bated breath. The taller man kept his gaze downward – long, scarred fingers dangling between his knees. "I don't know…" he trailed off. Peter could see the battle waging inside of his friend.

"You have to talk to her," Peter breathed.

Remus' head jerked up and stared incredulously at Peter. The smaller man's face burned red, but he moved forward. This was it. He just needed to push forward – _just a little further._

"You just need to talk to her," Peter said again. His eyes blazed with determination. Remus was slightly taken aback by the sudden ferocity in his friend's expression – he had never seen him look so strong before. He felt surprisingly weak in comparison.

"You have to tell her how you feel and that you're there to stay," Peter said. His voice trembled slightly, but his face was determined, his jaw much more square than Remus had ever seen. "She probably won't believe you at first, but you have to show her how much you love her. You have to prove that you're there to stay."

"I know all of that," Remus said quietly. "I just don't know how." He looked down at his hands.

"I don't either," Peter admitted, "but you know her better than anyone else, don't you? You'll find a way."

Remus looked at Peter with a searching expression, and Peter felt the bricks of his fortifications being pulled out one by one. The panic began to seize his chest again, but then the corner of Remus' lips twitched slightly – the smallest of smiles. It was so small, and yet so bright.

"Thank you, Peter," he said quietly.

Peter smiled genuinely back. The two men sat in silence, simply enjoying the stillness between them and the momentary reprieve from the heat. Peter vaguely thought how strange it was to hope for Rowan to give Remus another chance, and yet he'd never wanted anything so badly in his entire life. His thoughts were interrupted by another question.

"If something was wrong… If you were in trouble, you'd tell me, right?" Remus asked slowly.

Peter nodded without thinking. He didn't trust his own voice. The brief contentment he'd just had fell away, and the fear gripped his chest again. He prayed he'd have the opportunity to see Rowan and Remus together again – prayed he'd be able to see her safe and happy. A shiver crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the icy glass in his hands. He knew he'd be seeing Barty Crouch and "Eris" later that evening. The cuts in his back burned.


	39. Of the Relief & Sorrow of Rain

**A/N**: Rejoice, peasants, for I finally give you what you have requested! ... sort of.

**casualmoose:** First of all, I really like your penname! Second, THANK YOU! I'm so happy you've enjoyed the story/characters so much! Thank you for reading and the awesome review. Please let me know what you think of the coming chapters!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Thank you as always! You're the best!

**missalex3030:** Yes, that's exactly right. He's aware of Bellatrix and Barty now and went against their orders to not contact his friends because he wanted to protect Rowan, though he obviously can't tell Remus that. Thanks for the review as always! ^^

**S38:** Thanks for the incredibly thoughtful review! You raise some really good points/questions, and I'm so thrilled that the story has drawn interesting comparisons to the themes of the original work for you. Yes, I will be following canon still mostly - Harry can't become the Boy Who Lived without Lily and James dying, after all T-T As for the Secret Keeper, you'll see... ^^

**Lovirosa:** Hahaha you're so cute! Your reviews always make me smile. Thank you, and please enjoy! It's [sort of] what you wanted?

**REVIEW MEEEEEE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 39: Of the Relief and Sorrow of Rain**

A week passed quietly after the mission in Wigtown, and Rowan was grateful to not hear from Remus since their weekly Order meeting. She'd buried herself in her work to block the thoughts of him and Evan Rosier from crawling back into her head; however, it seemed that no matter what she did, either the dark images of Rosier's final curses or the feeling of Remus' arms around her made their way back into her mind. At random moments, she'd succumbed to strange bouts of anger directed aimlessly, eventually dissolving into quiet tears and silent rage. She'd also found herself frequently waking in the middle of the night coated in a thin sheen of cold sweat and stomach seizing with fear and fury.

Rowan had tried to take Remus, James, and Dumbledore's words to heart, but while the bitter taste left in her mouth from the massacre at Lestrange Manor was slowly fading away with each day, Remus' sudden disappearance from her apartment had hurt much more than she'd expected. She had finally stopped missing his involvement in her life as more than a friend, and then he'd wormed his way back into it and then disappeared just as quickly.

_As always_, she thought bitterly.

Really, shouldn't she have known? She never should have allowed him to step foot in her flat after the mission. She should have asked for her key back months ago. He still had it now! She had no one to blame but herself for being in this terrible relationship – or whatever it was. She hated the anger and feelings of spite she was beginning to feel towards Remus – after all, he was just as lost as she was – but it was growing more and more difficult with each day to not resent him as well.

She'd gone back to see Derek McKinnon once more at St. Mungo's, but he sadly remained unresponsive. Beyond that, she'd spent all of her time in her lab at Delacroix Manor and in her apartment playing her violin. She'd considered putting aside the sheet music that Barty had given her for her birthday the month before but decided it'd be a waste. They were surprisingly sad pieces – not what she would have expected from him – and they were quickly becoming part of her regular repertoire.

Alfred and her mother had been eyeing her warily for the past week. Carole had confronted her after a few days of this routine of eerily quiet work, but Rowan had brushed it off. She knew she couldn't completely hide it from her mother – no doubt Carole and Alfred had put the news of the Wigtown Death Eater massacre and her sudden depression together – but she couldn't stand the thought of talking about what had happened with either of them. As an Order member, she wasn't even allowed to discuss it. She just hoped they'd continue to accept that excuse.

It was finally the first day of September, and the sky was very gray though the weather was still hot. She'd spent most of the afternoon in her lab studying for her P.A.T.s and going over her old notes from her work in Belby's shop, but the dark whispers in her mind began to prove too much for her to concentrate efficiently. She left with a brief goodbye to Alfred and her mother and Apparated back to London with the beginning clenches of simmering anger in her stomach.

As soon as Rowan hit the pavement of her street, she immediately took her shoes off. A few people stared at her as she tore the socks and trainers from her feet and walked barefoot on the hot sidewalk, but she didn't care. It was sickeningly humid, and the air stuck to her like an extra layer of skin. Her mind was a deaf downpour, and all she wanted to do was peel her clothes off and play her violin in her underwear for the rest of the afternoon until the voices subsided. She crawled up the stairs quietly to her flat with the cool wood pressing into her feet soothingly, and as she opened the door, she threw her shoes to the side. She leaned against the door with her eyes closed and released a sigh that she hadn't known she'd been holding. The cool air of her apartment seeped into her muscles.

"Rowan."

She jumped with a slight yelp and thrust her wand blindly forward. Her lungs heaved with fear, but as she looked around wildly, she saw that Remus stood at her table with wide eyes and hands up. She froze for a moment, staring at him blankly. The panic slowly dripped away, and as she lowered her wand, she ran a hand through her hair with quickly building anger. Her arms fell limply to her sides.

"Order of fucking Merlin… Seriously?" she asked irritably."You can't just come into my apartment whenever you want anymore! It's completely inappropriate!"

He was the last person she wanted to see, and he, of course, had decided to come see her on her moodiest day yet this week. Why did he always seem to show up when she was at her worst?

Remus grimaced with guilt. "I'm sorry. I just needed to see you," he said quietly. Rowan snorted.

"Well, you've seen me," she said, limply flopping her arms. She moved from the doorway towards her wardrobe and began undressing, apathetic to Remus' eyes. It didn't really matter anymore – he'd seen it all, and she was angry beyond decorum. She almost hoped it hurt him to see what he had given up – she wanted him to regret ever leaving her.

"I mean I needed to talk to you," he continued. She yanked her blouse over her head with mild frustration and threw it to the side with her laundry. She pulled a t-shirt and pair of shorts from her wardrobe then started shimmying out of her jeans.

"I've been thinking… about the other morning," he added. She unhooked her bra and added it to the pile, suddenly feeling much cooler as she pulled the clean t-shirt shirt over her head.

"And?" she asked blandly.

She wasn't sure if she much cared anymore. It all seemed so petty now. The dark urges were gone, thanks in part to him, but it didn't matter if she was understood her anger or if he was there or not. He had been so close and then he was gone, as always. Their moment had passed, and time was quickly moving again beyond it. She flicked her wand. A clinking glass floated from the cabinets and towards the sink. She flicked her wand again, and the faucet filled the glass with cold water. It then shot to her hand, and she drank it down with relish. She felt it trickle icily down her throat, spreading throughout her stomach.

"I saw Barty the other day," he said suddenly.

Rowan's mouth twisted with confusion but ignored it. She'd hear him out, wait for an opening, and then make him leave. She wasn't going to put up with his misplaced jealousy any longer. She placed the glass on the dresser with a light clink of glass against wood.

"And?" she asked again impatiently.

"Have you seen him recently?" he asked. The light tone of his voice gave her pause, but then she heard the rumble in his throat at the end. She felt a slow burning in her gut in anticipation.

"A few days ago," she said defiantly. She punctuated her statement with a turn and sharp look. She was startled to see his eyes were burning angrily. He hadn't shown so much jealousy over Barty in ages, and certainly not to her face. It only served to fuel her own anger.

"You need to break things off with him," he growled. A normal person would've asked, not ordered, she reasoned angrily. She tore her gaze away from him spitefully, and she could feel his anger flare in response.

"Actually, he asked to make things more official," she said venomously. She was leaving out the fact that she _had_ indeed broken up with Barty, but she didn't want to give him any reason to feel satisfied. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted the wounds to be as painful as he'd left hers. She glanced out the window and saw the gray sky swirling. It would rain soon. A small twinge of relief twanged through her stomach. Perhaps they would finally be relieved of the humidity.

But then rough hands grasped her wrists and she was being jerked forward. His eyes burned into her. She felt herself falter but held onto her wits desperately.

"And what did you tell him?" Remus breathed angrily. She felt his heat soak into her skin.

Her mind swam for a moment from the overwhelming waves before her eyes refocused. Her temper flared again, and she pushed him away from her roughly. He staggered, but barely, still standing only a foot away from her. It felt like no space at all.

"What do you fucking care?" she snarled.

She grabbed the glass from the dresser and stomped towards the sink. She heard him stalk after her swiftly and quietly, but she ignored him. She slapped the faucet handle roughly, and the room was filled with the singing of running water. It bounced over her coolly. She felt relieved just from the sound. She breathed it in, soothing her burning lungs, as it filled her glass again.

"Rowan," Remus finally said from behind her. He spoke softly, contritely. She felt vindicated and savored it. But she continued to ignore him. She turned the running water off and took another long gulp from her glass.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Her eyebrows furrowed with lips squeezed together. She stared hard at the clear glass, which was now clasped tightly between her hands. Her reflection was strangely distorted in its surface. Perhaps the Rowan she saw there was actually one in another parallel universe. How would their stories differ in the end?

A hand touched her shoulder softly, and once again, she felt him turning her slowly towards him. But instead of stare weakly at his chest as she had in so many situations before, she met his gaze hotly. She was determined to finally see this resolved this time.

"I'm sorry for leaving the other day. I just…" He wrung his hair with nervous fingers. "I just needed to think. I can never think clearly around you," he said quietly.

She held in a snort but still spoke dully, "I was under the impression you didn't think at all."

He gave a small rueful smile. The small scar on his upper lip stretched with his mouth. It was so endearing, so very like him. She hated the way it quelled the fire in her stomach slightly. She mentally stoked it again so it continued to burn, determined not to let him win.

"Maybe," he admitted quietly. His fingers danced against hers softly. She wanted to swat them away but couldn't find purchase over her own hands.

"This is… hard for me to say," he continued quietly. She saw the muscle in his jaw twitch with effort again, eyes darting around her face searchingly. "I've spent nearly a year denying everything I've felt, trying to convince myself that I could let you go when the time came. It's… difficult to come to terms with all of it."

Her throat constricted. So he was finally going to leave her for good - _good_. She held her chin high. She wouldn't cry in front of him, not this time. She would stay strong in front of this man. He didn't deserve to see her tears again.

"I made a promise to your father… right before he died," he said. Rowan's eyes widened at the sudden thought of Richard. Her chest ached as his face flashed at the back of her mind.

Remus grimaced knowingly but continued. "He made me promise that when the war was over, I'd either commit to you or leave you completely. I-" he paused. Rowan wondered if her lungs had turned to stone.

"I told him I'd leave you – that I'd let you move on," he admitted quietly. His eyes didn't meet hers, and she couldn't be sure if it was with remorse or consideration for her feelings. Her stomach tightened with nausea, sickened at how much of an effect he still had on her. She turned her head away as well with simmering shame.

"Why are you telling me this?" she whispered. His head jerked up to see her staring dully at the dying monkshood blossoms at the end of her counter. The purple flowers had shriveled and darkened, nearly gray. She wanted to see them burn.

"You didn't have to tell me any of this. I could've guessed that's what you'd do on my own," she said bitterly. The little bit of water that remained at the bottom of the glass vase was brown and cloudy. Dead bits of leaves and petals floated in it. She imagined that she was one of the leaves.

"No," Remus whispered.

Rowan felt herself recoil at his protest, but she kept her gaze averted. She was afraid to meet his eye – afraid of how she'd react to what she saw there. He had already seen her weaknesses too thoroughly. She didn't need to fall apart in front of him again.

But then she felt gentle hands cup her jaw softly, turning her face so that she had to look at him. She raised her chin defiantly at him, eyes burning. He gazed at her tenderly with so much regret and shame that she wanted to cry in spite of herself. But she swallowed it down and kept her face hard. She wouldn't back down now.

"I made a promise to your father," he admitted. "But I have to break it."

Rowan felt her stomach hit her heart. Every muscle in her body clenched painfully. She couldn't breathe.

"I ran away from you the other day like a coward, right when you needed me the most," he said ruefully. His grasp on her face was so warm. The pads of his fingers were so familiarly rough, and yet so gentle. He smiled guiltily "It seems I'm always doing that with you. I just… I couldn't think. I had to think about what I needed to do, what I wanted.

"And I've always wanted you," he said fervently. Rowan felt her lips tremble and berated herself mentally for the small lapse in self-control. "Always – it's always been you. But I've proven to myself over and over again that I can't protect you.

"But I've realized that I've been leaning on that excuse for much too long, and that's exactly what it is – an excuse," he said bitterly. Rowan's brows furrowed with simultaneous understanding and confusion. The mixture was mentally overwhelming.

"I've used you to punish myself for my own weaknesses, and in the process, I've hurt you even more," he admitted remorsefully. "I've left you to suffer alone, silently. It's shameful how weak I am.

"I told your father that I'd leave you, but I've shown myself again and again that I can't. _I can't_. I want to be with you, to share my life with you in all ways, even if that means hurting you.

"So please – _please _- be with me. I won't share you, not with Barty, not with anyone," he whispered. Rowan's lips trembled against her will. She felt heat burn behind her eyes.

"I want all of you, and I promise to give you everything I have and am in return. Please, Rowan," he whispered.

He pressed his forehead against hers, and his words sank into her skin like warm rain. His heat was overwhelming. Her head swam. She fought desperately to make sense of her screaming thoughts. They seemed to speak in a language she didn't understand.

"You've said all of this before," she whispered bitterly.

Remus pulled away slowly, still holding her face between his hands. His eyes burned into hers, mouth twisting with grief. His eyes shined so brightly that they stung her, but she kept strong. She pushed forward.

"You've left me twice now," she said, a little more firmly. She made sure her gaze remained hard. "The first time you asked me to give you another chance, you said you'd take anything I had to offer, and yet you pushed me away again right when I needed you most. Isn't there a saying about someone being likely to do something they've already done once? How can you seriously expect me to believe you?"

She pulled away from him gently, and Remus' hands fell away from her slowly. His eyes searched her face desperately. She held his gaze evenly, challengingly.

"What can I do?" he asked quietly.

Rowan ran her eyes over his features. His lips were twisted sadly, eyes melting with guilt. She knew every line, every scar by heart. She could sculpt his likeness blindly from memory using just her fingers and clay, and yet she couldn't be sure if she knew him at all.

"I don't know," she said tiredly. She looked away finally. Her limbs felt very heavy, fatigued. They were no longer sore from the mission at Lestrange Manor, but she felt a dull ache score through her again. His fingers grazed hers beseechingly, but she balled her fists tightly in response. She wouldn't give in this time.

"Give me a chance," he breathed. She felt his breath against her temple as he leaned forward. She suppressed a shiver. "Just one more chance, Rowan. Please."

She closed her eyes and felt her head bow. She felt like she was seventeen again in the boys' dorm, being swept away by his familiar touch and pretty words of devotion. But she wasn't a teenager anymore. She was a soldier now. She had scars that would never heal, nightmares that might not fade for a long time to come. Theirs wasn't a story of school romance anymore, and who knew if there was a happy ending for either of them.

"I just don't know, Remus," she whispered.

They stood in silence for what seemed like a small eternity. She felt the room sway around her gently, like waves lapping onto the shore. His fingers grazed the tightness of her fists, but just barely. She nearly expected him to spirit away with the quickly fading light of the evening.

Rowan kept her gaze on his chest, ignoring the heat that pooled between them. His words grazed her face, combed through her hair. A part of her screamed, begging with her to believe him, but at this point, words didn't mean anything. She'd heard them all before.

There was a light pattering on the window – it had begun to rain.

"I will always love you," he said. His voice harmonized with the soft sounds of water. "And I'll keep trying to win you back, no matter how long it takes."

Rowan's eyes stung hotly, but she bit the tears away. How could he continue to be so cruel? She refused to show weakness to him. She'd keep firm in this. She thought her entire body might burst into flames.

"I still can't believe you," she whispered. She couldn't even bear to look at him.

He didn't respond, but his grasp on her hands remained. They felt so strange there. The longer she thought about it, the more alien his touch seemed – after all, they'd been broken up for nearly a year now. Didn't it make sense to not remember his touch well anymore? Parents and friends lost, injuries sustained and scars engraved – hadn't they both changed immensely since they'd split up?

"Tell me what to do," he finally said. His hands left hers and nudged her gaze upward so that she locked eyes with him. His expression was so heated, eyes blazing. She didn't know how she wasn't burning away beneath his hands.

"I will do anything to win your trust back, but I know that it will take time," he said fervently. Her lips trembled, but she no longer had the will to fight it. "If you need months, even years, to forgive me, I understand. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Rowan searched his face for even a flicker of uncertainty, but his gaze was unbreakable. She was so confused.

"What's happened to you in the past week that's made you change your mind so suddenly?" she asked incredulously.

Remus seemed to remember something funny. His mouth twitched into a gentle smile. She wanted to hate it desperately.

"Sometimes when the universe keeps pushing us in one direction, that's where we need to go," he said softly. His thumb brushed over her cheek like a whisper.

Rowan's brows furrowed with confusion, and his lips twitched with fond amusement. The scar there caught her eye as always. Her head swam with frustration. How was this happening? When he pulled away, his smile straightened back out to a more serious expression. He gazed at her intently.

"What do you need me to do to prove how serious I am?" he asked quietly. "Because I am serious – I'll do whatever it takes. Just say the word."

Rowan stared up at him hard. She felt very drained, but she knew what her answer was without thinking.

"No," she said firmly.

Remus' eyes widened, and she saw fear flicker through them for the first time. She realized how odd that seemed – had he been so sure that she'd take him back? She felt the anger stir in her stomach slowly again at a low heat.

"I won't tell you what to do. If you want to earn back my trust, you need to figure it out for yourself," she said defiantly. His mouth tightened with confusion. "Giving you a checklist or a series of ultimatums won't prove to me that you're not going to leave me again. If you're for real, you'll do it on your own.

"But you've hurt me," she added bitterly. She kept her gaze even with his so that he'd feel the brunt of her words. She saw him falter for a moment with guilt. "Even if you try to 'win me back' or whatever, I don't know if I can ever trust you again. You can try all you want, but I'll make no promises."

Remus' eyes searched her face rapidly. She could see the panic well up and then pull away like the tide. Understanding seemed to spread slowly across his features, and then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

"Alright," he said resolutely.

His eyes blazed with heat. She thought vaguely that green had never looked so warm. It spread through her chest slowly, despite her mind screaming at it not to. It felt much too similar to hope, and she wanted none of it. She wouldn't expect or wish for anything from this man – she'd receive nothing but disappointment in return.

His hands cradled her cheeks, rough fingers brushing against her skin. It was all too much.

"You can fight me all you want, Winnie," he said fervently, "but we were meant to be together."

Rowan felt the fire overtake her. Even the wind and rain of the storm outside couldn't put it out.


	40. Of Drops on the Surface

**A/N**: Sorry for the wait. Been busy a lousy week. Here's an extra long fluffy chapter to make up for it.

**missalex3030: **Thank you! I also freak the fuck out when I get email notifications about your reviews haha ^^ I'm so glad you approve of Rowan's development!

**snuffles95:** Thank you thank you! :D Here is some of the beginnings of that "proving wrong" that you mentioned!

**sarahmichellegellarfan1:** Thank you as always! I'm so happy everyone seems to appreciate Rowan's skepticism!

**casualmoose:** Hahaha your response made me really happy. Rowan's confidence is holding strong, but Remus is putting in some effort today!

**lovirosa:** Thank you so much! I'm so glad you approved! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!

**WRITE ME A REVIEW PLEEEEASE!**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing!

* * *

**Chapter 40: Of Drops on the Surface**

The storm that overtook London seemed coincidentally well timed. Though it would be ridiculous to think that the dark whispers and nightmares would fade away in a week, Rowan couldn't help but think that the city felt much cleaner after the rain. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could truly breathe again without feeling as if she were swimming through the air itself, and the weather took on much more autumnal tones. The relief was immeasurable.

Remus didn't stay at Rowan's apartment the night of the storm, nor the night after or the night after that. Three weeks passed quickly with very little change in her daily routine except that every evening, he would be on her doorstep waiting for her, and on the weekends, he was there in the afternoon, sometimes in the morning. The first few days he'd shown up, she'd looked at him like he'd grown another head and left him standing on her front stoop, but he'd kept showing up until she'd finally allowed him to come in with her, just to muffle the feelings of guilt she was quickly developing - he just looked so pathetically hopeful standing there, waiting for her to come home like a loyal dog. She wasn't sure if she was more frustrated with him or herself.

Since then, she'd humored his new attempts to court her again despite feeling very little enthusiasm. There had been a few days, however, that she'd been too tired to handle his presence, but even when she snapped at him moodily, he'd gone home without protest, kissing her on the cheek wordlessly goodbye and giving her the space she needed. On the days she begrudgingly let him inside, he left before it got too late, and though he had shyly begun treating her more affectionately, he never pushed her to reciprocate. She wasn't even sure _how_ to, if she were to be honest.

At the couple of Order meetings since Remus' change of heart, their friends had been thrilled to see the change, to say the very least. Rowan was sure James and Lily's faces might break if they kept grinning at her so broadly every time she saw them. Sirius had punched Remus on the shoulder so roughly with happiness that the lighter-haired man's knees had buckled slightly, and Molly Weasley had embarrassed her greatly by exclaiming in front of the entire organization how happy she was to see them together again. She wanted to protest – they _weren't_ together again – but there was no getting a word in edgewise with these people. She supposed it was to be expected when the great majority of her friends were Gryffindors.

The most surprising had, in fact, been Peter's reaction. He'd missed the first meeting – he'd come down with the flu apparently – but when she saw him at the next, he looked at her as if he would break down into tears of joy. He'd held her hands with such warmth, spoke with such unbridled happiness, that he looked like a completely different person. Seeing the dark rings under his eyes and the paleness of his face – he must have had a truly terrible case of the flu - she hadn't had the heart to tell him that she hadn't actually forgiven Remus yet.

It was honestly becoming quite annoying how pleased everyone seemed to be – she certainly didn't feel the same way. It was difficult to not feel overwhelmed by it all when everyone around her was so excited. Remus seemed to have noticed how uncomfortable the premature celebrating made her and suggested they spend time together without the company of their friends, much to her relief, though she found it frustrating how pleased_ he_ had seemed with all of it.

It was nearing the end of September, and Rowan had finally started feeling confident about her P.A.T.s. She knew it wasn't until January, but her father had ingrained in her head that it was "impossible to be too ready." She took the saying to heart and continued a rigorous regimen of studying and note recovery. She'd managed to recover a good amount of Belby's old notes from memory and was confident she'd have enough to begin testing again as soon as she got her Potioneer's license. As far as she was concerned, January couldn't come soon enough.

It was Friday, and the end of the day quickly arrived. She headed up the stairs slowly from the basement, stretching her stiff muscles out with flailing arms. Alfred sat in the kitchen reading _The Daily Prophet_ with a cup of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits. She sat down and snatched one up, shoving it into her mouth ungracefully. He glared pointedly at her.

"Okay, I know I taught you better than that," he scolded. Rowan grinned back cheekily, teeth coated with mashed up chocolate. Alfred blanched and made a gagging noise. She gave a muffled boyish chuckle and poured herself a cup of tea, gulping it down and washing the biscuit away with it.

"It continues to amaze me that you have so many handsome suitors when your table manners are appalling," Alfred said haughtily. "Please tell me you don't do these things when you're out with Master Crouch."

"Actually, I broke things off with him nearly a month ago," she said flippantly, grabbing the sports section from Alfred's paper. An article about the Chudley Cannons pulling an upsetting win over the Appleby Arrows caught her eye. No doubt the Weasleys would be quite pleased.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Really? I was under the impression that things were going quite well with you two," he said.

Rowan shrugged. "We had an agreement. He and his father didn't follow through with their side, so there was no use in continuing," she said casually over the paper.

Alfred nodded in understanding then smirked. "Tell me you at least shagged him," he said teasingly.

"Aren't you supposed to be a parental figure?" she said glaringly.

Alfred shrugged. "As your caretaker, I'm concerned about all of your needs," he said. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "_All_ of them."

Rowan pretended to vomit into her teacup, and he laughed in response. "Oh please, like you didn't at least imagine it – he's a sexy little thing, and it's not like you're getting any from Remus anymore," he said. Rowan felt her face burn and hid her face behind her paper as discreetly as she could, but of course he noticed.

"Rowan," he started slowly. "Please tell me you and Remus aren't…" He gave her a reproachful look.

Rowan slapped the paper down onto the table. There was no use trying to avoid the conversation – he wasn't going to drop it until he got some answers.

"No," she said firmly. She shifted uneasily though.

"But…?" Alfred pushed.

Rowan sighed. He could always read her. Was she really so transparent? "He asked me to take him back… about a few weeks ago," she said with exasperation.

Alfred frowned. "And you said no, of course, right?" he said lowly. "Tell me that's not the real reason you broke things off with Crouch." She could hear the anger flaring testily in his voice. He still obviously held a grudge against the young man for the last time he'd hurt her.

"No, of course not!" she protested. "Remus asked _after_ things had ended with Barty, and he hadn't even known about that." Alfred looked slightly relieved but stared pointedly for her to continue. She sighed.

"I didn't give him an answer," she said honestly. Alfred's expression darkened. "He asked me to tell him what to do to win me back, and I said I wouldn't. I told him he'd have to figure it out for himself," she argued.

"Rowan," Alfred said warningly.

"I know, I know!" she said. "But I haven't promised him anything! He's doing all of this on his own."

"But you're not discouraging him either," he countered testily. "And what is he _doing_ exactly?"

Rowan wanted to groan in frustration. "I don't know… Nothing big, I suppose. He just shows up every evening to hang out and takes me out sometimes."

"Has he tried to make a move on you?" Alfred asked darkly.

"No," Rowan said firmly. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach – she wasn't sure why it was there to begin with. "The most he's done is kiss me on the cheek."

Alfred's expression remained dark, but she waved it off. "Really, Al, you don't need to worry about it. He'll bail sooner or later anyway – he always does. I'm fine," she said casually. Her chest tightened at the thought, but she pushed it away. She refused to even consider the possibility of other outcomes.

The older man assessed her carefully but then relented. "If you say so," he said skeptically.

Rowan smiled and got up to leave. "On that note, he's probably sitting in my flat right now. I should go kick him out," she said half-jokingly. Alfred nodded but eyed her warily. As she moved to leave, she turned back around, remembering something.

"Can you not mention this to Mum? I don't want her stressing about nothing," she said. Alfred nodded.

"Alright, but you should tell her before too long. You know how angry she'll be if she finds out from someone else," he said. Rowan nodded.

"I will. Thanks. See you Monday," she said before turning and leaving the kitchen.

* * *

"Fuck!" Rowan cursed.

As soon as she Apparated back into London, she was hit with a sudden downpour of rain. Within ten seconds, she looked as if she'd jumped into a pool. She ran down the street quickly, holding her bag to her chest – she couldn't risk the rain soaking through to her notes. She sprinted through the rain, squinting to prevent the water from seeping into her eyes. She felt it creep into her shoes wetly and cringed at the feeling of her toes squishing noisily against her socks.

As she reached her building, her blood drained momentarily. Remus stood on her doorstep, completely drenched. His hair clung to his face, white dress shirt nearly transparent from the rain. She ran up the steps to meet him, tripping slightly over her own feet.

_"What are you doing out here?_" she shouted over the pounding rain. He smiled guiltily at her but didn't say anything as she pushed her key into the door. She moved inside quickly, and he followed, shaking his hair out like a dog and splashing her in the process. She wrung her own hair out and checked on her bag – still somewhat dry. She felt a small wave of relief and then looked back up at Remus, who had untucked his shirt and was wringing it out at the bottom hem. She saw that line of dark hair that ran up from the waist of his pants and cursed at herself for the small heat that shot through her – how could she even think of him that way right now?

"What were you doing out there?" she repeated incredulously. He looked up and grinned ruefully at her. She felt that heat again but pushed it away.

"Well, I gave you my key back a couple of weeks ago, so I couldn't get in," he said rather embarrassedly.

"What?" Rowan asked. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

Remus looked at her with equal confusion. "I left it on your table. I even said so. Did you not see it?" he asked with surprise.

Rowan scoured her mind for the memory but couldn't recall him ever saying that. Her table was also covered in books and parchment – she'd probably completely overlooked it.

"I don't remember," she said. "Why would you do that?"

Remus shrugged. "You said it yourself that it wasn't really appropriate for me to be coming and going as I pleased, so I figured it'd be best to give you your key back. Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked anxiously.

Rowan thought back to the past few weeks and realized slowly that he'd always been waiting on her doorstep and not inside like he used to. She remembered vaguely yelling at him for showing up in her flat the afternoon he'd declared his intentions. She hadn't expected him to remember that though – even she had barely remembered saying it. He shivered slightly, and she suddenly realized how cold he must be.

"Come on, let's get inside before you catch a cold," she said, gesturing up the stairs. He nodded and followed.

When they finally pushed into her flat, Remus' teeth were chattering, though Rowan could tell he was trying to fight it. Her chest tightened at the sight of his broad shoulders shivering beneath the clinging material of his shirt. She turned away as she removed her wet socks and shoes, and he followed suit. She thought to herself that under normal circumstances she'd giggle at the strange squishing noises that bounced between them – but then what was _normal_ for them anyway? She sighed quietly and then moved towards her table and scanned over it quickly, finding the offending key on the corner of the surface. How had she missed that? She started gathering her papers neatly to make space at the table, placing her bag down.

"How long were you out there for?" she asked.

Remus joined her at the table. "I don't know – maybe ten, fifteen minutes?" he said vaguely.

Rowan frowned. "Why didn't you just go home? I could've been out for hours!" she said incredulously, looking up at him. He shrugged.

"I've been here everyday for the past three weeks. It'd be weird if I weren't today," he said flippantly. Rowan stared at him with disbelief. She wanted to tell him that was stupid, but she saw the shivering in his shoulders again and realized that he was still very much wet.

"You should take a hot shower and change your clothes," she said sternly. Remus shifted uneasily.

"No, that's unnecessary," he said. "I can just dry them-"

"No," she interrupted, pushing him towards the bathroom before he could protest. "It's my fault you were out there for so long, and if you get sick, I'll be pissed off. I'll put your clothes in the dryer while you're in the shower."

Remus stood in the bathroom, looking somewhat lost for words and gazing at her with furrowed brows. She saw the muscle in his jaw twitch before he surprisingly smirked at her.

"Care to join me?" he asked teasingly.

Rowan felt her face burn and slapped him in the chest before slamming the door shut. She heard him laugh from the other side and her stomach jerked at the sound. It seemed like it'd been ages since she'd heard him laugh so freely. She hated how deeply it resonated within her.

The door then cracked open, and a pile of clothes poked out.

"Thank you," Remus said from the other side. A long scarred arm held them in front of her, and she took them quietly. He closed the door after pulling his arm back, and she wondered if she should be shocked at his sudden modesty.

After putting his clothes into the dryer, Rowan changed her own clothes and then got to clearing off her table. Placing bookmarks in before closing them, she piled her books together neatly and moved them to her bookcase. She took her notes out from her bag – she'd take a break the next day as it was Saturday – and set them on her bedside table, setting her bag out on her windowsill to dry.

The rain was really coming down hard. It clicked and clacked noisily against her window, and she saw a flash of light in the distance followed by a loud clap of thunder a few moments after that resonated through her flat. She heard the muffled rattling of the shower and realized she should cook something, as they most likely wouldn't be going out for dinner in this weather. She began pulling various ingredients from the refrigerator and decided on a stew – it was easy and would go well with the cold rain.

As she began chopping vegetables, her mind started to wander. It'd been so long since she'd associated Remus with the rain. She used to drag him out with her whenever they were graced with a warm storm at Hogwarts, and he'd begrudgingly humor her, watching her with mild amusement as she would take off her socks and shoes to soak her toes in the wet grass. She particularly liked the way the rain fell upon the lake and would pull him to the water's edge to admire it. She smiled despite herself – one of the first times she'd ever spent with him alone was during their Third Year at the lake, nearly seven years ago to the day.

* * *

It was late September, and she'd been dipping her toes into the lake during a slow drizzling rain, savoring the peaceful moment away from her classmates. She had still not quite found her niche – still very awkward with her female peers but not quite in with the boys yet. Her time in the rain was for her and her alone – a divine moment where the grounds were empty and she felt like the school was entirely hers. She needed no friends out there. She giggled to herself as the Giant Squid sucked at her feet with its tentacles as she wriggled them beneath the water. The gray sky melted into the water, and the rain had blurred the lines between the two realms – they seemed to go on and on forever, and she with them. What would happen if she were to throw her shoes into the lake? How far would they fly? She grinned softly to herself.

"What're you doing out here?" a voice called.

Rowan nearly fell into the water with a shocked squeal before steadying herself and turning quickly to see Remus staring at her with confusion. He had been small at that age – an inch shorter than she. His hair clung to his thin face, the scar at his jaw still red and fresh. He'd acquired it at the end of the previous year, which had sparked her sudden interest in his comings and goings. It looked quite large on his small face and bright against his pale skin. She forced her eyes to remain off of it.

Rowan's heart had leapt at the sight of him. She'd never been in his presence alone like this, not without James or Sirius at least. Something about him had always made her nervous - something in his face seemed much too old for a 13 year-old. She'd already had her suspicions regarding his condition at that point but no idea what to do with them. He'd never given her any reason to dislike him, but werewolves were supposed to be frightening, dangerous people. Was it safe to be alone with him like this?

"Oh, h-hi, Remus," she squeaked. She looked at the Giant Squid, as if it could give her some answers. It simply waded in the water, floating just below the surface. "I was just, um, playing with the squid…?" she said weakly. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment – could she be anymore pathetic? What kind of girl at that age plays in the rain alone with giant squids? He probably thought she was the biggest loser at Hogwarts!

But instead of scoff at her, Remus' mouth twisted with confused amusement. "You can do that?" he asked with a hint of awe.

Rowan smiled awkwardly, but she nodded. "Yeah, Derek McKinnon showed me. He's really friendly – the squid, I mean," she said, turning back to her aquatic playmate. The squid slowly raised a few tentacles out of the water wobbly as if waving at the two of them. She smiled at the modest gesture.

Remus grinned. "I had no idea," he said. "Does he have a name?"

Rowan shook her head. "Not as far as I know. I just call him 'Squid.'"

Remus nodded and moved to join her at the edge of the lake, looking out into the gray distance. Rowan turned slightly and eyed him carefully. The scar at his jaw seemed much more pronounced in profile. She could see the lines beneath his eyes, which seemed to age him considerably. She thought to herself that she should probably be afraid of him, but all she could feel was sympathy for her classmate. That cut looked incredibly painful. She'd seen him rubbing it subconsciously during class and at meals and wondered vaguely if there were others like it. Just how deeply did his condition run?

She tore her eyes from his jaw – it'd be terrible for him to catch her staring.

"What're you doing out here by the way?" she asked carefully. Remus turned back and smiled shyly. She felt her own face redden in response and her stomach clenched slightly, though she didn't understand why.

"I saw you from the boys' dorm and I don't know…" he said awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably and red in the face. "I've seen you out here before when it was raining," he said awkwardly.

His robes were completely soaked through now, as were hers. He reached up to wipe his wet hair from his forehead, and she congratulated herself for thinking to braid her hair that day.

Rowan smiled awkwardly. "You think I'm weird, don't you?" she said half-jokingly. Her cheeks reddened again.

He smiled warmly, and her stomach clenched again. "No, I think it's neat," he said genuinely. "It's good to have your quirks. I like sitting in the library alone when everyone else is on the grounds."

Rowan grinned. "Nerd," she teased. He smiled sheepishly.

They stood in silence, staring out at the lake together, before Rowan began to feel awkward again. Remus seemed to feel it as well.

"Should I leave you alone?" he asked carefully. Rowan shook her head.

"No, it's okay," she said, smiling shyly. "It's nice having company out here sometimes." Her face screwed up suddenly. "Just don't tell James or Sirius about this. Stupid James already calls the squid my boyfriend… the dumb wanker."

Remus laughed freely. He suddenly seemed so much younger. Her stomach clenched again in that strange way. She wasn't sure if she liked it or not. His laughter rang through the rain clearly – the first time she'd ever shared a happy moment with him. She'd associate the sound with the rain for a long time after.

"I won't," he promised warmly.

The two spent another hour out by the lake together, sharing small stories and playing with the Giant Squid. She decided after that she quite enjoyed his company and hoped that the next time it rained, he'd come join her again. She wouldn't figure out his secret definitely for another month, but even after her quiet moments of realization in the library and the feelings of horror that came with them, her stomach would still clench strangely at the sight of his gentle smiles. Werewolves were dangerous, but if Remus Lupin was an indication, maybe some of them weren't so bad.

* * *

"Rowan."

Rowan jerked with surprised to see Remus' wet head poking out from the bathroom, smiling amusedly. She felt her face burn with embarrassment at being caught daydreaming, though she wasn't sure why. She frowned slightly as she remembered those first nervous butterflies she'd felt with him all those years ago.

"Are my clothes dry yet?" he asked.

Rowan looked over at the dryer, which was still running. Her frown deepened.

"No," she said ruefully. She moved towards her wardrobe and began rustling through her clothes. "I'm sure I have some of your old shirts and even a pair of sweatpants here though," she said anxiously. She kicked herself for not thinking this through. Obviously his clothes wouldn't be dry by the time he got out of the shower!

Finally, she found an old t-shirt and some sweatpants she'd stolen from his place about two years before. She hurried over to the bathroom and handed them to him. She flashed her a boyish grin and closed the door between them. She sighed and forced herself not to bang her head on the door in frustration.

What was she even doing? She'd been determined not to let him into her life again, and yet she kept allowing him back into her space day after day and was even letting him shower there now. She was even cooking for him! She grimaced. She was self-conscious about her lackluster skills in the kitchen – he was definitely a much better cook – but he'd always insisted that he enjoyed the food she made for him. It was much too intimate. She bit back an angry groan and moved back to the stove where the stew was simmering slowly. There was no point in wasting food now that she'd begun cooking, she supposed.

Finally, Remus emerged from the bathroom with a puff of steam and heat. His skin glowed with the water, shirt clinging to his lean form. She kept her eyes on the pot purposefully, determined not to look at him.

"You're cooking?" Remus asked disbelievingly. He beamed, obviously very pleased, and moved to join her by the stove.

"That looks fantastic," he said happily. She stiffened as his hands grazed over her hips affectionately while moving to grab dishes from the cupboards. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

Rowan shook her head. "No, you can just relax. It's almost done anyway." She needed some space from him. It was beginning to be too much.

She watched the stew finish cooking for another few minutes in silence. He sat at the table and didn't say anything, but she could feel his gaze on her back. Finally, she knew she couldn't drag it out any longer and turned the stove off with a sigh, ladling the stew into their respective bowls. She placed a bread roll on top of each, carrying them to the table.

Rowan thought she might go blind from the brightness of Remus' smile. She suddenly felt incredibly dirty in comparison. He beamed at her like a child on Christmas morning and quickly tucked into his dinner.

They ate quietly and quickly. He scarfed his bowl down before her and pushed his bowl away, patting his stomach with a pleased look on his face.

"Ah, I think I could die happy right now," he said with great satisfaction. Rowan couldn't help the smile that pinched at her mouth. He always knew how worried she was about her cooking, and even if she wasn't sure if he was always telling the truth in his compliments, she still appreciated them. She wouldn't admit it just now though.

Her eyes trailed over the key, which still remained at the corner of her table. Now that she stopped to think about it, every time she'd come home to find him there, he'd been on the steps outside, not in her flat. She'd just assumed that he'd been doing it out of politeness, but this seemed much more significant somehow. She glanced at him hesitantly from the corner of her eye. He was watching the rain outside with a pensive expression, teeth worrying his bottom lip. She noted how prominent the scar along his jaw remained, even after so many years, and yet it seemed like an integral part of him now despite how strange and frightening it had been on his small face as a boy. It was pale and thinner now and had stretched longer as he'd grown. It seemed to highlight the sharp line of his jaw almost masculinely. She wondered what he was thinking about.

"Why did you give me my key back?" she asked.

Remus looked at her with a confused look. "Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked warily.

Rowan thought for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted. "Honestly, I just wanted you to stop showing up in my flat unannounced. It's frightening coming home to find someone there when you're not expecting it."

Remus smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I supposed you're right," he said. He looked at her thoughtfully. "So are you saying I should keep it?" he asked carefully.

Rowan looked down at her now empty bowl. "I don't know," she said quietly.

Did she want him to keep it? She knew the answer should be no, but after seeing him looking so pathetic in the rain, she almost felt like she should give it back. It didn't seem like he was going to give this act up anytime in the immediate future, even if it wouldn't last in the long run, and she didn't want him waiting around in rain and snow for her to come home. Would he take her refusal as discouragement and give up? Shouldn't she want that?

"How about you think on it for now, and we can talk about it later?" Remus suggested. Rowan looked up at him and saw him smiling gently at her. "I know this is still difficult for you to wrap your head around. Take your time. You can give it back to me when you're ready."

Rowan's chest tightened. His expression was so warm. Her wet hair suddenly felt very cold against her skin.

"Okay," she said quietly. She offered a shy smile in return, and his eyes flickered with a low heat. Her chest tightened again. "But next time it's raining like this or it's snowing or something, you should just go home," she scolded.

Remus smiled. "I'll consider it," he said vaguely.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed quietly but warmly. Remus let Rowan continue some reading she'd started the night before, and he rotated between going over his own work notes and doodling little sketches of her. He left the small drawings on her table after, which she'd find later with a small smile.

Finally, night fell upon them, and Remus got up to leave. He surprised her by going back into the bathroom to change – he hadn't done that since they were sixteen.

"Are you sure you don't want to wear these home?" Rowan asked skeptically, gesturing to the t-shirt and sweatpants that he'd handed back to her.

Remus smiled. "No, it's okay. I imagine I might need them another time here anyway," he said. "If you'll let me, of course," he added quickly.

Rowan didn't respond but stared at the clothing in her hands, thinking hard. After a moment, she turned and placed them back in her wardrobe, shutting the drawer quietly. When she turned back around, Remus was gazing at her so intently, so warmly, that she thought her chest might burst.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then," he said. He looked at her hesitantly. "Do you want to go to the beach for the day? I was thinking that it'd be fun to get out while the weather is still kind of warm."

Rowan thought back to her memories of them by the lake at Hogwarts together and wondered if the rain had reminded Remus of those times as well. She smiled shyly.

"Okay," she said.

Remus' face broke out into a happy grin. She was sure her heart could be heard beating against her ribcage.

Before she could say anything else though, he was reaching forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, effectively silencing her. His eyes darted down towards her mouth, declaring his intent. She knew he was giving her the opportunity to push him away, but she couldn't find her voice or her hands. He was then leaning forward slowly, and her breath seemed to catch in her chest. Everything in her ached.

His lips grazed hers so softly that she hesitated to call it a kiss. It was like a whisper of lips, a silent promise though she couldn't be sure of what. He didn't push forward, but held her face ever so gently that even her cheek silently asked for more.

And then his touch was gone, and she opened her eyes – she didn't know when she'd closed them – to see him gazing at her so heatedly that she thought she might burst into flames.

"Goodnight then," he said quietly. Rowan exhaled slowly a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"Goodnight," she breathed back.

Remus smiled again – a quiet twitch of his mouth – and then he was gone, closing the door behind him quietly. The silence of the room suddenly felt very chaotic, and Rowan felt lost within it. How had all of this happened? She couldn't even be angry with herself. She had simply been overtaken, overwhelmed. He'd completely overpowered her, but she wasn't sure how - he'd given her every opportunity to deny him. His hold over her remained incredibly frightening.

Her fingers rose to her lips, but she didn't dare touch them. She felt as if he'd bestowed a wish upon her, and she was afraid to brush it away. It was silly really, but there it was.

Three weeks in, and she already felt lost. She couldn't find it in herself to feel upset, just dazed and confused. This man was too much.

She headed to bed early. Perhaps a full night of sleep would help her think better in the morning.


End file.
